We'll be talking about two sets of brothers. The first set is Ken and Kenneth, they are Corrine's (The Poor Little Rich Girl post) cousins. The second set is Jon and Johnny, these are sons of my good friend.
Ken is thirteen years old and Kenneth is two years younger. Ken is a straight forward boy and is rather serious in temperament. Kenneth is quite a charmer. To me, both have regular features and are pleasant looking. However, the parents and the grandparents dote on the younger. If anything is wrong, Ken definitely bears the blame.
Jon is the eldest of three children. Johnny is two years younger. I still remember listening to my friend relating how the paediatrician gave a talking to on food refusal to her and her husband. She is a judge professionally, having children rather late in life made her an anxious mom. Years later, I could see that she allowed that experience to cloud her judgement on her eldest child. She still smarted over the shame of being told off, having to admit that a little child of thirteen months manipulated both her and her husband.
Johnny is a child of good circumstances, after his birth, many things went right for both mom and dad. As a result of that, the parents greatly preferred him to the other two. On top of that, Johnny has gift of the gab, he is handsome and confident.
Parents sometimes wear coloured glasses. In both cases, outsiders could see at a glance that Ken and Jon are nice and trustworthy boys. Yet respective parents beg to differ. They were taken in by the sweet words from the younger boys. Unless things are clear cut and obvious, the second kids get away with a lot and the elder ones tend to bear the short end of the stick.
Both families are quite wealthy. My friend inherited millions and is adding to the pile. Ken and Kenneth's grand parents have extensive land holdings. As far as my son and I could see, Ken and Jon are walking on the straight and narrow path. Kenneth began to associate with the playful and the lazy ones. Johnny preferred to mix with exclusively white boys after the family immigrated to Australia. That in itself is nothing wrong, the only thing one is concerned about is if he is ashamed of his Asian heritage. Nothing will make his skin white, even Michael Jackson remained black after all his skin bleaching. It will be interesting to watch what happen to these four boys ten years down the line.
Friday, November 23, 2018
(1032) Poor Little Rich Girl
Corrine is in Grade Six now. I first met her when she was in Grade Two, she came on a Tuesday night in September. She has fine bones, rather short and tiny for her age. She has a pretty heart-shaped face with elfin features.
She was the first of three children that came for tutoring with my son. The other two are brothers who turned out to be her cousins. Corrine's dad is a brother to the two brothers' mom. Little by little, we learned more about her. She has two brothers, one in college away and the other much older than her. She lives quite a few miles away in a big house. She is very weak in all three languages but very good with colours and styles. I bought some cheap kit in making friendship bands, she had a lot of fun teaching me how to weave while waiting for her father to come pick her up.
Looking at her clothes, it is quite clear that she came from an above-average income family. Yet why is she under weight? Her two brothers, my son and I saw one each in her mother's café, we think. They are fair and more than amply proportioned. Corrine is dark skin. She has an Indonesian maid at home, but a fridge that could be empty. Her dinner could be white porridge with soy sauce. I began to cook more just in case she came empty stomach. How can a little girl learn on an empty stomach? I may not be rich, but food is a plenty in my kitchen. I began to buy biscuits that Corrine likes.
After two and a half years in that town, I moved out of a rented house and my son took a suite of two rooms. I came back to peninsular Malaya. I asked my son how Corrine is. She is still thin and small for her age. She passed her UPSR. Next year she will be in Remove, a remedial class to help her to adjust to a curriculum in Malay. Lately she was spending time in her grandma's house. One could see it on her skin, full of mosquito bites, some festering. How is her mom? Don't know. Her two café closed. Part of what is happening because of the economic slow down due to GST.
For the only daughter of a man who owns houses in Kota Kinabalu, Kuala Lumpur, Singapore and of course the family home in town, Corrine is having some adverse circumstances to overcome. One wonders if she was an unwanted child. Or could it be that she is not her current mother's biological child? She is far from being academically gifted. But she is highly intelligent relationally speaking. She is graceful in her movements. She has nimble fingers, could thread beads easily and colour co-ordinate beautifully. It is a good thing she is not from a poor family, else missing out on the basic education would hinder her from progressing. But with money, she will find her special niche in fields I could not begin to imagine that the internet opened up recently.
She was the first of three children that came for tutoring with my son. The other two are brothers who turned out to be her cousins. Corrine's dad is a brother to the two brothers' mom. Little by little, we learned more about her. She has two brothers, one in college away and the other much older than her. She lives quite a few miles away in a big house. She is very weak in all three languages but very good with colours and styles. I bought some cheap kit in making friendship bands, she had a lot of fun teaching me how to weave while waiting for her father to come pick her up.
Looking at her clothes, it is quite clear that she came from an above-average income family. Yet why is she under weight? Her two brothers, my son and I saw one each in her mother's café, we think. They are fair and more than amply proportioned. Corrine is dark skin. She has an Indonesian maid at home, but a fridge that could be empty. Her dinner could be white porridge with soy sauce. I began to cook more just in case she came empty stomach. How can a little girl learn on an empty stomach? I may not be rich, but food is a plenty in my kitchen. I began to buy biscuits that Corrine likes.
After two and a half years in that town, I moved out of a rented house and my son took a suite of two rooms. I came back to peninsular Malaya. I asked my son how Corrine is. She is still thin and small for her age. She passed her UPSR. Next year she will be in Remove, a remedial class to help her to adjust to a curriculum in Malay. Lately she was spending time in her grandma's house. One could see it on her skin, full of mosquito bites, some festering. How is her mom? Don't know. Her two café closed. Part of what is happening because of the economic slow down due to GST.
For the only daughter of a man who owns houses in Kota Kinabalu, Kuala Lumpur, Singapore and of course the family home in town, Corrine is having some adverse circumstances to overcome. One wonders if she was an unwanted child. Or could it be that she is not her current mother's biological child? She is far from being academically gifted. But she is highly intelligent relationally speaking. She is graceful in her movements. She has nimble fingers, could thread beads easily and colour co-ordinate beautifully. It is a good thing she is not from a poor family, else missing out on the basic education would hinder her from progressing. But with money, she will find her special niche in fields I could not begin to imagine that the internet opened up recently.
(1031) Application to a mission organisation
I attended the prayer day of a local mission body, part of a bigger international organisation. After the event, lunch was served. Another visitor was filling in her application forms. She told my husband that she has struggled with it for weeks.
That prompted me to think of the three pages in my hand a good twenty years ago. I attended their camp in Cameron's Highland. Diane handed me the forms, a little longer than Australian Immigration Forms I obtained five years prior. But for a convert, it is difficult to find two Christian friends, two Christian colleagues, one Christian boss, one Christian room or housemate... I ended up returning the mission forms, did not write down anything. Just like the other set, easier to fill but I had no peace of mind.
Twenty five years later, I am glad I did not migrate to Australia. I heard that in the foreseeable future, one may not have gender on the birth certificate there. Most of my peers migrated there for their children's future. Yet what kind of future if the grand children are encouraged by the system to declare their gender to be male or female... and perhaps undergo gender reassigning operations, funded by generous government subsidy.
I am equally happy that I did not apply to any mission organisation twenty years ago. I am free to come and go, not tied to any organisation. During the tenure of the previous Executive Director, I went there to assist an older bi-lingual worker. Now I visit off and on, not really clicking with any of the staff or visitors, so far. I have a friend there to channel my recycling efforts to people in need in the Puchong area. Recently loads of things passed through my house onto different destinations. As my house is small, as far as possible, I pass on things within 48 hours. I did not realise how a seemingly neat and tidy house could yield up tons of good but pretty useless items kept because of monetary value. Perhaps it is because my neighbour has many cabinets and wardrobes. She has rich cousins and sisters who like to shop and give her things. This is a second house I help to vacate. The first time my real estate friend was asked by a daughter in England to get rid of her mother's effects. I went to assist and took home lots of things useful to me and my family. Lorry loads of furniture and other stuffs went to goodwill. It is sad that one's treasure would become others' rubbish in the blink of an eye. It is a good lesson for me to try not to accumulate things in my lifetime.
That prompted me to think of the three pages in my hand a good twenty years ago. I attended their camp in Cameron's Highland. Diane handed me the forms, a little longer than Australian Immigration Forms I obtained five years prior. But for a convert, it is difficult to find two Christian friends, two Christian colleagues, one Christian boss, one Christian room or housemate... I ended up returning the mission forms, did not write down anything. Just like the other set, easier to fill but I had no peace of mind.
Twenty five years later, I am glad I did not migrate to Australia. I heard that in the foreseeable future, one may not have gender on the birth certificate there. Most of my peers migrated there for their children's future. Yet what kind of future if the grand children are encouraged by the system to declare their gender to be male or female... and perhaps undergo gender reassigning operations, funded by generous government subsidy.
I am equally happy that I did not apply to any mission organisation twenty years ago. I am free to come and go, not tied to any organisation. During the tenure of the previous Executive Director, I went there to assist an older bi-lingual worker. Now I visit off and on, not really clicking with any of the staff or visitors, so far. I have a friend there to channel my recycling efforts to people in need in the Puchong area. Recently loads of things passed through my house onto different destinations. As my house is small, as far as possible, I pass on things within 48 hours. I did not realise how a seemingly neat and tidy house could yield up tons of good but pretty useless items kept because of monetary value. Perhaps it is because my neighbour has many cabinets and wardrobes. She has rich cousins and sisters who like to shop and give her things. This is a second house I help to vacate. The first time my real estate friend was asked by a daughter in England to get rid of her mother's effects. I went to assist and took home lots of things useful to me and my family. Lorry loads of furniture and other stuffs went to goodwill. It is sad that one's treasure would become others' rubbish in the blink of an eye. It is a good lesson for me to try not to accumulate things in my lifetime.
(1030) The Overcoming Tribe
After twelve years of rubbing shoulders with children with differing abilities in Silver City, I asked God where the adults are.
This is the thirteenth year I am working as a listener to women who formerly had learning differences. All in, I have spent almost twenty five years of my adult life working in my area of passion. Looking back, the very first person I listened to in Silver City was probably one of the group. She was very accomplished both academically and professionally. But when it came to human relationships, whether among friends, neighbours or relatives; she was rather clueless. Each of us may be given a certain number of marbles, it is up to each of us to decide where to place the marbles. She happened to diligently placed hers in furthering her financial future.
After the door to education and remedial help was firmly closed, I met two individuals: one who was troubled by her financial troubles and another by her marital woes. Let us call the first Veron and the latter Zoe. At different times, they were either depressed or suicidal. Today, they are both doing well. Veron is starting a Masters degree with an eye to start a women's shelter. Zoe is reconciled with her husband and reconnected with her children.
Contrasting Veron and Zoe, Zoe is obviously troubled by some form of learning disorder in her childhood. Zoe must have overcome all her differences early in life. Yet both carried the same type of hurt and to a certain extent, left-over anger. Zoe still has a few easily identifiable symptoms, Veron is articulate, successful in everything she touched until her business bankruptcy. Zoe is receptive and easily receives healing from the gentle holy spirit. Veron thinks everyone works with some form of lack and it is no big deal, one should not look back, not even one little peek. But sometimes one has to look back for a limited time in order to clear the way for the future. And so year in year out, I see Zoe improving slowly and steadily, Veron struggle mightily with fear of height and confine places, now progressing and there retreating.
Veron has moved out of my area. I talk to her now and then. I realize I am a rainy day helper. I wish her well. Her sister became my friend, therefor I am still up to date with important developments in Veron's life.
Zoe lives more or less with her restored family in Thailand. She still owns a house in my neighbourhood. Once in a blue moon I meet and catch up with her.
I am currently working with two single mothers. One just downsized from a complete house to one room in her married daughter's house. She started caring for her grandchildren. The other has two dependent children. Life goes on. One does not retire in God's community, no matter how old one becomes, one can still pray. And so one labours on, with much love from God.
This is the thirteenth year I am working as a listener to women who formerly had learning differences. All in, I have spent almost twenty five years of my adult life working in my area of passion. Looking back, the very first person I listened to in Silver City was probably one of the group. She was very accomplished both academically and professionally. But when it came to human relationships, whether among friends, neighbours or relatives; she was rather clueless. Each of us may be given a certain number of marbles, it is up to each of us to decide where to place the marbles. She happened to diligently placed hers in furthering her financial future.
After the door to education and remedial help was firmly closed, I met two individuals: one who was troubled by her financial troubles and another by her marital woes. Let us call the first Veron and the latter Zoe. At different times, they were either depressed or suicidal. Today, they are both doing well. Veron is starting a Masters degree with an eye to start a women's shelter. Zoe is reconciled with her husband and reconnected with her children.
Contrasting Veron and Zoe, Zoe is obviously troubled by some form of learning disorder in her childhood. Zoe must have overcome all her differences early in life. Yet both carried the same type of hurt and to a certain extent, left-over anger. Zoe still has a few easily identifiable symptoms, Veron is articulate, successful in everything she touched until her business bankruptcy. Zoe is receptive and easily receives healing from the gentle holy spirit. Veron thinks everyone works with some form of lack and it is no big deal, one should not look back, not even one little peek. But sometimes one has to look back for a limited time in order to clear the way for the future. And so year in year out, I see Zoe improving slowly and steadily, Veron struggle mightily with fear of height and confine places, now progressing and there retreating.
Veron has moved out of my area. I talk to her now and then. I realize I am a rainy day helper. I wish her well. Her sister became my friend, therefor I am still up to date with important developments in Veron's life.
Zoe lives more or less with her restored family in Thailand. She still owns a house in my neighbourhood. Once in a blue moon I meet and catch up with her.
I am currently working with two single mothers. One just downsized from a complete house to one room in her married daughter's house. She started caring for her grandchildren. The other has two dependent children. Life goes on. One does not retire in God's community, no matter how old one becomes, one can still pray. And so one labours on, with much love from God.
(1029) Disappearing Sons
Recently two neighbours and I got together and had breakfast. Among many topics, we talked about our sons.
Kimberly's son took a job at the other end of town and decided to stay in company hostel. Jemima's elder son went to work in Dubai. The second one got married lately and moved out. My eldest has been in northern Kalimantan for four years or so. Janice's elder son bought a house and moved out. The second one has been lost for two years in between school and career. He must have found a job out of town and gotten started lately. Cathy's son has not been seen for about six weeks, we guessed he moved in with his girl friend.
Strangely, the girls are around. Kimberly's daughter finished school and started working. Jemima's daughter is in her late thirties and still bringing up her children in the neighbourhood. Cathy's daughter is a tour guide, off and on I still see her in between trips. Come to think of it most of my neighbours have more sons than daughters. My daughters are still home.
For my mother's generation, sons are more important than daughters. Things are totally different now, I think most women prefer daughters. Still, those with rich husbands are somewhat under pressure to have at least one son.
My mother has had three years of education post Second World War. She still reads Chinese newspaper. The lack of higher education and non-existent career caused her to depend on her men folk for finances. She lives with her eldest son according to age-old Chinese custom. I happened to marry a second son and therefore has no such obligation to house my in-laws. Anyway, my father-in-law was a government servant with pension income that takes care of his wife beyond his death.
Kimberly is gainfully employed beyond her retirement. Jemima is planning to seek her fortune in a faraway Western country after Chinese New Year. I am living simply with a semi-retired husband and am publishing a book each year. Janice is a babysitter that operates from home. Cathy is independently rich with inherited wealth. None of us plan to live with our eldest son, though none of us dare to say we don't need them as each of us grow older, who know what old age might bring. We are all fortunate to be well educated under the post British colonial educational system. We each of us is far better off than our counterparts in Africa or rural parts of India. Say what one wants to, colonial system is not all negative as historians portray it to be.
Kimberly's son took a job at the other end of town and decided to stay in company hostel. Jemima's elder son went to work in Dubai. The second one got married lately and moved out. My eldest has been in northern Kalimantan for four years or so. Janice's elder son bought a house and moved out. The second one has been lost for two years in between school and career. He must have found a job out of town and gotten started lately. Cathy's son has not been seen for about six weeks, we guessed he moved in with his girl friend.
Strangely, the girls are around. Kimberly's daughter finished school and started working. Jemima's daughter is in her late thirties and still bringing up her children in the neighbourhood. Cathy's daughter is a tour guide, off and on I still see her in between trips. Come to think of it most of my neighbours have more sons than daughters. My daughters are still home.
For my mother's generation, sons are more important than daughters. Things are totally different now, I think most women prefer daughters. Still, those with rich husbands are somewhat under pressure to have at least one son.
My mother has had three years of education post Second World War. She still reads Chinese newspaper. The lack of higher education and non-existent career caused her to depend on her men folk for finances. She lives with her eldest son according to age-old Chinese custom. I happened to marry a second son and therefore has no such obligation to house my in-laws. Anyway, my father-in-law was a government servant with pension income that takes care of his wife beyond his death.
Kimberly is gainfully employed beyond her retirement. Jemima is planning to seek her fortune in a faraway Western country after Chinese New Year. I am living simply with a semi-retired husband and am publishing a book each year. Janice is a babysitter that operates from home. Cathy is independently rich with inherited wealth. None of us plan to live with our eldest son, though none of us dare to say we don't need them as each of us grow older, who know what old age might bring. We are all fortunate to be well educated under the post British colonial educational system. We each of us is far better off than our counterparts in Africa or rural parts of India. Say what one wants to, colonial system is not all negative as historians portray it to be.
Thursday, November 15, 2018
(1028) Interesting Marriage 2
I have a friend from Thailand. As married women get together, we talk about old friends, husbands, children, father-in-laws and perhaps mother-out-laws.
One day we were talking about lucky wives, since there were five women there, we came up with five examples. My Thai friend told us about her childhood friend, later all four of the listeners unanimously voted her friend as the luckiest.
Rich husbands abound, but often the wives of rich men have heavy responsibilities. Some have many children. Others have to house the husband's extended family members. Yet a few might have their calendar fully marked with social events. Some might have to contend with second wives or mistresses.
We'll call this lady Nam. Nam remained childless by choice, the decision seconded by her husband. They live in an upmarket condo in Bangkok. He is an accountant of a notable company there. While hubby was busy earning the bacon, Nam went her round doing facial, massage, spa, high-tea, shopping... She does not work, she does not cook, she does not even clean house. We the listeners all imagine Nam to look like Miss Thailand. When our friend showed us her photo on Whatsapp, we were really disappointed. But, well, after all beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
The punch line came when the story teller told us the secret of that marriage's dynamic. Nam's mother-in-law said that it was impossible to see the loving couple out of the condo from Friday after work to Saturday dinner time. This is to be expected every week-end, 52 weeks a year. Whatever most wives are expected to do on week days, Nam made it all up by performing her magic in bed during those hours. The end result is we have a very satisfied and happy husband. To each his own.
One day we were talking about lucky wives, since there were five women there, we came up with five examples. My Thai friend told us about her childhood friend, later all four of the listeners unanimously voted her friend as the luckiest.
Rich husbands abound, but often the wives of rich men have heavy responsibilities. Some have many children. Others have to house the husband's extended family members. Yet a few might have their calendar fully marked with social events. Some might have to contend with second wives or mistresses.
We'll call this lady Nam. Nam remained childless by choice, the decision seconded by her husband. They live in an upmarket condo in Bangkok. He is an accountant of a notable company there. While hubby was busy earning the bacon, Nam went her round doing facial, massage, spa, high-tea, shopping... She does not work, she does not cook, she does not even clean house. We the listeners all imagine Nam to look like Miss Thailand. When our friend showed us her photo on Whatsapp, we were really disappointed. But, well, after all beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
The punch line came when the story teller told us the secret of that marriage's dynamic. Nam's mother-in-law said that it was impossible to see the loving couple out of the condo from Friday after work to Saturday dinner time. This is to be expected every week-end, 52 weeks a year. Whatever most wives are expected to do on week days, Nam made it all up by performing her magic in bed during those hours. The end result is we have a very satisfied and happy husband. To each his own.
(1027) An Interesting Marriage
The other day I was giving my six-cent worth of suggestions to a friend who lives two weeks in Singapore and two weeks in Malaysia. First one is the company my youngest child interned in was recently reorganised, it is a publishing house with offices both in Kuala Lumpur and Singapore. Since working in such a place is highly stressful, personnel turnover is high. My friend Ms S could look for a job in such a place and work in both offices. That company centralised its departments into parts of Asia instead of individual entities in each country. She has been editing for friends for years. Recently she proof reads as a part-timer for the company mentioned above.
The second is I think if she writes a collection of marriage stories, I would volunteer to sell it to my crowd. After all, my eldest is a big-picture editor, my youngest is a meticulous proof reader and my husband is a self-taught publisher. Since I hardly expect her to take up my crack-pot ideas, I might as well write up my contributions to her imaginary book.
There is a young man I know, let us call him Howard. He picked up a girl friend when he was in Form Four. Everyone predicted the calf love not to last. Everybody was wrong. He did marry her in his mid-twenties. Counting on my fingers, I see nine years of courtship. She ended her education at Form 5 and he went on to earn a Bachelor's degree part-time. She works in retail food and he actually has three jobs. Howard sells insurance, has been enterprising in starting some on-line business and also his day corporate job. They have two children. From all angles, it is a happy marriage.
The interesting part came when Howard's mom went to stay with them to care for their two children. The lovely kitchen remain a decorative space until the old lady started cooking in it. The lovely wife does not cook at all, not even in boiling an egg for breakfast. All the cleaning, laundry, ironing... are done by Howard. Yet it is a willing buyer, willing seller situation. There is no argument, no quarrel, no disharmony of any kind. Perhaps one can see the one possible reason why Howard's wife lost one of her brothers at age thirty five to a fatal stroke. Assuming the same sort of dynamics work in the deceased's household, the deceased probably had three jobs, and the would-be widow did not lift a finger in terms of housework.
One thing out of the ordinary we notice is that even in public, quite a few years after the wedding, Howard would sit right next to his wife and half lean against her. She would be stroking his palm, apart from eating, the loving stroking would go on hour after hour in a gathering. When the palm turns red, she would be playing with his fingers.
I suppose one gets what he wants from the spouse, he would be more than happy to take over her entire role except in childbirth. Life can be stranger than fiction. Yet Howard is happy. His wife is happy. Each of the two children is still young. Perhaps their boy will one day be a very good catch for some couple's daughter, who is willing to participate in public love play(that is seldom seen in Malaysia).
The second is I think if she writes a collection of marriage stories, I would volunteer to sell it to my crowd. After all, my eldest is a big-picture editor, my youngest is a meticulous proof reader and my husband is a self-taught publisher. Since I hardly expect her to take up my crack-pot ideas, I might as well write up my contributions to her imaginary book.
There is a young man I know, let us call him Howard. He picked up a girl friend when he was in Form Four. Everyone predicted the calf love not to last. Everybody was wrong. He did marry her in his mid-twenties. Counting on my fingers, I see nine years of courtship. She ended her education at Form 5 and he went on to earn a Bachelor's degree part-time. She works in retail food and he actually has three jobs. Howard sells insurance, has been enterprising in starting some on-line business and also his day corporate job. They have two children. From all angles, it is a happy marriage.
The interesting part came when Howard's mom went to stay with them to care for their two children. The lovely kitchen remain a decorative space until the old lady started cooking in it. The lovely wife does not cook at all, not even in boiling an egg for breakfast. All the cleaning, laundry, ironing... are done by Howard. Yet it is a willing buyer, willing seller situation. There is no argument, no quarrel, no disharmony of any kind. Perhaps one can see the one possible reason why Howard's wife lost one of her brothers at age thirty five to a fatal stroke. Assuming the same sort of dynamics work in the deceased's household, the deceased probably had three jobs, and the would-be widow did not lift a finger in terms of housework.
One thing out of the ordinary we notice is that even in public, quite a few years after the wedding, Howard would sit right next to his wife and half lean against her. She would be stroking his palm, apart from eating, the loving stroking would go on hour after hour in a gathering. When the palm turns red, she would be playing with his fingers.
I suppose one gets what he wants from the spouse, he would be more than happy to take over her entire role except in childbirth. Life can be stranger than fiction. Yet Howard is happy. His wife is happy. Each of the two children is still young. Perhaps their boy will one day be a very good catch for some couple's daughter, who is willing to participate in public love play(that is seldom seen in Malaysia).
(1026) The Chrysanthemum Lover and other tales by Wong Ming Yook
This is my favourite of these four books. My daughter said it contains the most imaginary and other worldly tales.
There are three stories that I like, number 1 same name as the book, The Hog's Goodbye and Drinking Tea with the Immortals in the Wintry Woods. Vaguely I remember a story my grandma told me more than half a century ago that is like The Chrysanthemum Lover. In my grandma's version it was another flower. But the rest of the story line was almost alike. Well, I can understand how a person who had substance could leave the corrupt city and live as a recluse far away in a rural retreat.
The ancient Chinese admired their current national flower, which blooms in winter, I think. Then the next is orchid, chrysanthemum and lastly bamboo. It is little wonder that chrysanthemum was chosen. The scholarly seemed to have their symbols in every plant, tree and herb.
The Hog's Goodbye is a little like Beauty and the Beast, only the venue is not in an enchanted castle. A lot of this tale took place in a jungle. I like how the story was woven: a sailor who was rescued by the hog and later brought him books. The seal that found its way to the hog enabled me to imagine the hog going to claim his rightful place in a royal palace.
The last tale: Drinking Tea with the Immortals in the Wintry Woods reminded me how my grandma said that in the past hundreds or thousands of years ago, immortals often pretend they were ordinary people and roamed the earth, that coincided with what was recorded in Genesis of the old testament.
Angels would come down to visit Sodom before its destruction.
I certainly enjoyed these four books more than many a best seller. More importantly, I realized different stories appealed to different people. I must explain that my second editor going through my second collection of short stories suggested I kick out six because they were weak. Around that time I actually took out all six of them. My first editor asked about my decision and suggested that I put in extra effort to rewrite them. Then as my daughter and I compared notes on what each of us like about Wong's stories, I realized that many of her favourites were actually what English teachers considered as weak plots. In went five of the six, only one was left out as it reveals more of the author. It is quite ok to blog and tell a fair bit as it is done anonymously. Once a book has an author name and a publisher it is then traceable. I thank God that these four books fell into my hands as I was deciding to include or exclude those five stories. Certain things are rather providential which happen in a particular timely manner.
There are three stories that I like, number 1 same name as the book, The Hog's Goodbye and Drinking Tea with the Immortals in the Wintry Woods. Vaguely I remember a story my grandma told me more than half a century ago that is like The Chrysanthemum Lover. In my grandma's version it was another flower. But the rest of the story line was almost alike. Well, I can understand how a person who had substance could leave the corrupt city and live as a recluse far away in a rural retreat.
The ancient Chinese admired their current national flower, which blooms in winter, I think. Then the next is orchid, chrysanthemum and lastly bamboo. It is little wonder that chrysanthemum was chosen. The scholarly seemed to have their symbols in every plant, tree and herb.
The Hog's Goodbye is a little like Beauty and the Beast, only the venue is not in an enchanted castle. A lot of this tale took place in a jungle. I like how the story was woven: a sailor who was rescued by the hog and later brought him books. The seal that found its way to the hog enabled me to imagine the hog going to claim his rightful place in a royal palace.
The last tale: Drinking Tea with the Immortals in the Wintry Woods reminded me how my grandma said that in the past hundreds or thousands of years ago, immortals often pretend they were ordinary people and roamed the earth, that coincided with what was recorded in Genesis of the old testament.
Angels would come down to visit Sodom before its destruction.
I certainly enjoyed these four books more than many a best seller. More importantly, I realized different stories appealed to different people. I must explain that my second editor going through my second collection of short stories suggested I kick out six because they were weak. Around that time I actually took out all six of them. My first editor asked about my decision and suggested that I put in extra effort to rewrite them. Then as my daughter and I compared notes on what each of us like about Wong's stories, I realized that many of her favourites were actually what English teachers considered as weak plots. In went five of the six, only one was left out as it reveals more of the author. It is quite ok to blog and tell a fair bit as it is done anonymously. Once a book has an author name and a publisher it is then traceable. I thank God that these four books fell into my hands as I was deciding to include or exclude those five stories. Certain things are rather providential which happen in a particular timely manner.
Wednesday, November 14, 2018
(1025) Ah Lao and the Paper Men by Wong Ming Yook
The author taught my daughter in the university quite a few years ago. I am grateful for the fact that she gave each of her four books to my daughter recently.
In this book I would vote Wild Duck Inn as the best story. Part of the outskirt of Ipoh was exactly like Wong wrote it, at least thirteen years ago. Perhaps it is nostalgia for what I was used to in the yesteryears. I particularly like the fact that Wong pitched it from the angle of a foreign visitor.
My daughter was very taken with the fact that story number 5 and 6 seemed to be linked with a peacock feather. It was sad that a loving owner who enjoyed living in her little house had to die and everything would have to be vacated for viewing and then new ownership. But, well, no one lives forever and houses often can last a few generations.
My favourite neighbour decided to downsize from a three room house to one room in her daughter's home. I have been there in the old abode, chatting and lending a hand here and there. It is almost hard to believe that there were so much stuff in that neat and tidy house. You could hardly believe how much had to be given away. More so if the owner passes on and the only daughter has to go through the effects as in between story 5 and 6.
The first story is the same as the name of the book is a story that I would not read after sunset. From that fact I have to bow to the author for she successfully engineered suspense and sneaked in tinges of fear into my heart. Generally I am not afraid of ghost stories, used to clamour for others to tell them during camp fires and on overnight trips.
In this book I would vote Wild Duck Inn as the best story. Part of the outskirt of Ipoh was exactly like Wong wrote it, at least thirteen years ago. Perhaps it is nostalgia for what I was used to in the yesteryears. I particularly like the fact that Wong pitched it from the angle of a foreign visitor.
My daughter was very taken with the fact that story number 5 and 6 seemed to be linked with a peacock feather. It was sad that a loving owner who enjoyed living in her little house had to die and everything would have to be vacated for viewing and then new ownership. But, well, no one lives forever and houses often can last a few generations.
My favourite neighbour decided to downsize from a three room house to one room in her daughter's home. I have been there in the old abode, chatting and lending a hand here and there. It is almost hard to believe that there were so much stuff in that neat and tidy house. You could hardly believe how much had to be given away. More so if the owner passes on and the only daughter has to go through the effects as in between story 5 and 6.
The first story is the same as the name of the book is a story that I would not read after sunset. From that fact I have to bow to the author for she successfully engineered suspense and sneaked in tinges of fear into my heart. Generally I am not afraid of ghost stories, used to clamour for others to tell them during camp fires and on overnight trips.
Friday, November 9, 2018
(1024) The Library of Sighs by Wong Ming Yook
This is Wong's second book.
Story 1 The Library of Sighs
Quite often, we find teenagers who could not quite fit in with their school crowd, their peers in the area they live or even places they work part-time in. These may not be juvenile delinquents but they could be loners, a little slow, too quiet or a hundred other harmless different traits. Rita in the story is a little unsure of herself, but obedient and teachable. I have a neighbour whose daughter who seemed a bit aloof, she often takes a little time to digest what I told her. Perhaps I am a rather abrupt speaker who is impatient and too lazy to explain.
After her Senior Cambridge Exam, she went to part-time waitress in a Nonya (a line of cooking from the Straits Settlement, Penang, Melaka and Singapore) Restaurant. A few months later, she was hired as a full timer. Now she seems vibrant, confident and no different from other girls her age.
Story 3 & 4 Maria de Silva Takes a Husband
Mimi Gomes Dances the Waltz
There are three dominant races in my country: Malay, Chinese and Indian. De Silva and Gomes probably belong to the category "others". One of my youngest' classmates counts four lines of ancestry: Chinese, Indian, Portugal and Filipino.
What binds these two stories together is Mimi's husband who marry Maria bigamously. Now, that was not very unusual. I actually have a cousin who married her husband by registry knowing fully well that he has a first wife by Chinese tea ceremony. What was strange is that the second wife later became an assistant Principal in a rather well known government school. The first wife knew about her husband's second marriage and kept quiet. What can the poor lady do, she has six children and her husband is rich.
Story 1 The Library of Sighs
Quite often, we find teenagers who could not quite fit in with their school crowd, their peers in the area they live or even places they work part-time in. These may not be juvenile delinquents but they could be loners, a little slow, too quiet or a hundred other harmless different traits. Rita in the story is a little unsure of herself, but obedient and teachable. I have a neighbour whose daughter who seemed a bit aloof, she often takes a little time to digest what I told her. Perhaps I am a rather abrupt speaker who is impatient and too lazy to explain.
After her Senior Cambridge Exam, she went to part-time waitress in a Nonya (a line of cooking from the Straits Settlement, Penang, Melaka and Singapore) Restaurant. A few months later, she was hired as a full timer. Now she seems vibrant, confident and no different from other girls her age.
Story 3 & 4 Maria de Silva Takes a Husband
Mimi Gomes Dances the Waltz
There are three dominant races in my country: Malay, Chinese and Indian. De Silva and Gomes probably belong to the category "others". One of my youngest' classmates counts four lines of ancestry: Chinese, Indian, Portugal and Filipino.
What binds these two stories together is Mimi's husband who marry Maria bigamously. Now, that was not very unusual. I actually have a cousin who married her husband by registry knowing fully well that he has a first wife by Chinese tea ceremony. What was strange is that the second wife later became an assistant Principal in a rather well known government school. The first wife knew about her husband's second marriage and kept quiet. What can the poor lady do, she has six children and her husband is rich.
(1023) In the Courtyard of the Sun by Wong Ming Yook
I read the book a few months ago. At that point of time I had no internet access. Now that I am holding the yellow covered book in hand, all I could remember is story number 13, the second last story.
The Daytime Café of Love - that is the only story I like enough to place a pencil mark against the margin on the content page. Assuming anyone that looked for this review on line has read it recently, I'm going to take it that you've bought the book. I am neither homophobic nor gay. During my few years of sojourn in USA, I've met and befriended quite a few gay men. They happened to be wonderful people, very warm, friendly and caring to an Asian wraith that I was then. Many a time through their kindness, I found places to stay and temporary or part-time jobs to tide me till term time.
Now that I have been married for thirty over years and living in the suburb of a metropolitan city, the only gay man I see off and on is my mix rice seller. He is in his forties, his partner is the cook. They are part of the restaurant team in my neighbourhood for well, at least twelve years. Last week he took a look at my selection: big auntie's daughter ties the knot*, onion fried egg and kai lan stir fry barbecue pork, he commented that my youngest daughter and I could make two meals out of it. I murmured that my eldest son is back, I'd be lucky to feed the three of us for lunch; at the back of my mind I was planning a quick tomyam soup of mushrooms to go with that and rice. I was surprised that he remembered my son. The latter have been away for pre-u, university, and has been in Sabah for three years. He gave me a convincing description of my son. Well, apart from his polished salesmanship, just maybe he is rather observant, got a good memory and is interested in his customers. My regard for him grew a fair bit.
* it is a common and low cost dish made of vegetable melon (mo kua) sliced, cooked with small dried shrimp, sometimes cellophane noodle is added. I call the subject of the piece Handsome. His partner's version added minced pork and egg drop. During my mum's youth, a poor family who cooks the daughter's nuptial meal would inevitable include this rather ordinary dish.
The Daytime Café of Love - that is the only story I like enough to place a pencil mark against the margin on the content page. Assuming anyone that looked for this review on line has read it recently, I'm going to take it that you've bought the book. I am neither homophobic nor gay. During my few years of sojourn in USA, I've met and befriended quite a few gay men. They happened to be wonderful people, very warm, friendly and caring to an Asian wraith that I was then. Many a time through their kindness, I found places to stay and temporary or part-time jobs to tide me till term time.
Now that I have been married for thirty over years and living in the suburb of a metropolitan city, the only gay man I see off and on is my mix rice seller. He is in his forties, his partner is the cook. They are part of the restaurant team in my neighbourhood for well, at least twelve years. Last week he took a look at my selection: big auntie's daughter ties the knot*, onion fried egg and kai lan stir fry barbecue pork, he commented that my youngest daughter and I could make two meals out of it. I murmured that my eldest son is back, I'd be lucky to feed the three of us for lunch; at the back of my mind I was planning a quick tomyam soup of mushrooms to go with that and rice. I was surprised that he remembered my son. The latter have been away for pre-u, university, and has been in Sabah for three years. He gave me a convincing description of my son. Well, apart from his polished salesmanship, just maybe he is rather observant, got a good memory and is interested in his customers. My regard for him grew a fair bit.
* it is a common and low cost dish made of vegetable melon (mo kua) sliced, cooked with small dried shrimp, sometimes cellophane noodle is added. I call the subject of the piece Handsome. His partner's version added minced pork and egg drop. During my mum's youth, a poor family who cooks the daughter's nuptial meal would inevitable include this rather ordinary dish.
(1022) Bed bugs
We are in the age of uber, grab and a b & b. In a sense it is wonderful about sharing the planet's dwindling resources. Yet, what about bed bugs?
I well remember that to go to the fifty cents Saturday morning movie one has to bring a stack of newspaper to cover the wooden bench. That was in the mid-seventies. Else the unlucky person(s) would have a row of bumps to show and to scratch.
In the early eighties a college friend of mine spent a year earning money teaching English in Taiwan. She had much fun learning Taiwanese Chinese ways. After living frugally for a year, she had a nest egg to go backpacking in China, India, Indonesia, Thailand... By the time she came to visit me, she looked like a very poor and dirty hippie woman. After a stint in Java living on US$1 a day, her hair was full of lice, her clothes were full of bed bugs. Lucky Jennifer found an empty flat in Singapore to de lice and de bug. She shampooed her hair twice a day with medication, the next day she cropped it real short. Before that meeting, I had never seen her with short hair. Simultaneously she would boil all her clothes and bedding in turn over a stove. Don't ask me how she found a utensil big enough, she probably borrowed a converted kerosene tin like what my mum had for boiling dumplings in the fifth month of the lunar year. I truly admire that kind of guts my white friends have. Until today I have seen less of Asia than her, and you cannot assume I don't like to travel.
Of late, with a lot of traffic and lots of people staying in homestays, I kept hearing of homes being invaded by bed bugs. There was Wendy, a professional translator. All the bed rooms in her house were infected. Believe it or not, she even changed all the bed room furniture in every room. No cure! Apparently bed bugs hide in books and can survive for months without a drop of blood. They eat human skin fragments in an occupied or empty house.
There is Delia, my daughter's youth group friend, her home was invaded twice. It took pest control to rid the last bug. The interesting part is Delia and her husband had not travelled for at least four years. They have young children under the age of four. My husband said that all it took is to have a part-time cleaner lying on one of the beds for five minutes to transmit a few bugs. What do you think?
My brother's sister-in-law spent at least $10,000, changed her master bedroom ceiling, every stick of furniture in two bedrooms. Prior to the bug invasion, she went to a few Asean countries with her family. They chose low price accommodation. Normally it is alright if we aren't particular about comfort. All we need are: a clean bathroom, fresh sheets on the bed and a ceiling fan. Yet who would
have thought that a budget trip would lead to months of fighting with nocturnal creatures which would be difficult to rid of.
I well remember that to go to the fifty cents Saturday morning movie one has to bring a stack of newspaper to cover the wooden bench. That was in the mid-seventies. Else the unlucky person(s) would have a row of bumps to show and to scratch.
In the early eighties a college friend of mine spent a year earning money teaching English in Taiwan. She had much fun learning Taiwanese Chinese ways. After living frugally for a year, she had a nest egg to go backpacking in China, India, Indonesia, Thailand... By the time she came to visit me, she looked like a very poor and dirty hippie woman. After a stint in Java living on US$1 a day, her hair was full of lice, her clothes were full of bed bugs. Lucky Jennifer found an empty flat in Singapore to de lice and de bug. She shampooed her hair twice a day with medication, the next day she cropped it real short. Before that meeting, I had never seen her with short hair. Simultaneously she would boil all her clothes and bedding in turn over a stove. Don't ask me how she found a utensil big enough, she probably borrowed a converted kerosene tin like what my mum had for boiling dumplings in the fifth month of the lunar year. I truly admire that kind of guts my white friends have. Until today I have seen less of Asia than her, and you cannot assume I don't like to travel.
Of late, with a lot of traffic and lots of people staying in homestays, I kept hearing of homes being invaded by bed bugs. There was Wendy, a professional translator. All the bed rooms in her house were infected. Believe it or not, she even changed all the bed room furniture in every room. No cure! Apparently bed bugs hide in books and can survive for months without a drop of blood. They eat human skin fragments in an occupied or empty house.
There is Delia, my daughter's youth group friend, her home was invaded twice. It took pest control to rid the last bug. The interesting part is Delia and her husband had not travelled for at least four years. They have young children under the age of four. My husband said that all it took is to have a part-time cleaner lying on one of the beds for five minutes to transmit a few bugs. What do you think?
My brother's sister-in-law spent at least $10,000, changed her master bedroom ceiling, every stick of furniture in two bedrooms. Prior to the bug invasion, she went to a few Asean countries with her family. They chose low price accommodation. Normally it is alright if we aren't particular about comfort. All we need are: a clean bathroom, fresh sheets on the bed and a ceiling fan. Yet who would
have thought that a budget trip would lead to months of fighting with nocturnal creatures which would be difficult to rid of.
Thursday, November 8, 2018
(1021) Brain degeneration
My friend Swan had a neighbour called Violet. She was eighty six years old when I first met her. Swan and I called her Auntie Violet. The latter was as healthy as you and I could imagine. On her last trip to Melbourne, Australia, she would go bush walking every weekend with her grand son. Once she even climbed a small mountain.
For a senior citizen, she was having a good life. She lived in her daughter's condo. When she wanted to, she cooked. But when she felt lazy, she drove out to eat. She had 20-20 vision. No serious illness either. She even could not remember the last time she had a cold, let alone flu or cough. Once, on a dare to prove a point, she jumped rope a hundred times.
Sad to say, beautiful flowers fade and good time does not last. She began to forget things. The most difficult call from her to Swan was when she could not remember how to drive home. Swan managed to calm her down. Then she instructed Auntie Violet to drive along the fencing until a school sign board was located. Thus Swan drove to that school, which was not very far away, and led the old lady home.
Next thing we know, Auntie Violet had an accident in the underground car park. The repair bill came up to seventeen thousand dollars. There after she stopped driving. I still saw her at banks and supermarket in the neighbourhood. Gradually she could not remember my name. After that her daughter sent her to an old folk's home.
Until now I wonder how a healthy person like her could lose her memory. Alzaimer's? Dementia? Old age? Or could it be that she avoided oil and fat of all forms for many long years to maintain good health? That strong heart of hers may yet beat for ten or twenty years.
For a senior citizen, she was having a good life. She lived in her daughter's condo. When she wanted to, she cooked. But when she felt lazy, she drove out to eat. She had 20-20 vision. No serious illness either. She even could not remember the last time she had a cold, let alone flu or cough. Once, on a dare to prove a point, she jumped rope a hundred times.
Sad to say, beautiful flowers fade and good time does not last. She began to forget things. The most difficult call from her to Swan was when she could not remember how to drive home. Swan managed to calm her down. Then she instructed Auntie Violet to drive along the fencing until a school sign board was located. Thus Swan drove to that school, which was not very far away, and led the old lady home.
Next thing we know, Auntie Violet had an accident in the underground car park. The repair bill came up to seventeen thousand dollars. There after she stopped driving. I still saw her at banks and supermarket in the neighbourhood. Gradually she could not remember my name. After that her daughter sent her to an old folk's home.
Until now I wonder how a healthy person like her could lose her memory. Alzaimer's? Dementia? Old age? Or could it be that she avoided oil and fat of all forms for many long years to maintain good health? That strong heart of hers may yet beat for ten or twenty years.
(1020) Helping the aged
Recently, my friend, Diana, asked for help on behalf of her childhood friend. If you are my long term reader, you must have read about my spatial challenge. After staying in my current address for at least 13 years, I only know how to drive to the market, the library and my mother's house. Mind, I do go to multiple other places by public transportation. I could go by LRT, MRT, Monorail, KTM, buses, taxi or grab. So unless you provide a means of going, I very seldom venture out of my comfort zone.
We'll give Diana's friend a name, we will call her Zoe. Zoe's mum is 89 years old and she lives alone. A few days back, the old lady woke up with a sharp pain in her neck and shoulder region. She lives above a shopping mall in a tiny apartment. All her daily needs could be met on the ground floor. Well, when a person is at that age, one could not reasonably expect her to be totally self-sufficient all the time. Zoe lives in Toronto, Canada. Her mom lives many hours away in term of time zone in little Malaysia. Even though Zoe talks to her everyday, she could not apply ointment for her mom. Hence she asked Diana to find someone to visit her mom three times for one hour each just for one week. There are three tasks to accomplish during this hour, 1.rub ointment into the affected region 2. teach her mom how to navigate the tv onto playing dvd 3. teach her how to use a new phone. Zoe offered to compensate the helper a reasonable amount for the time, effort and transportation.
So on Tuesday evening, Diana managed to talk Penny into driving to meet this old lady who needed some help. I happened to tag along as I did not have other fish to fry. Diana is born a Cantonese but she is English educated. Penny is a Teochiew but went to 6 years of Chinese education. If I had not gone along, they would definitely have communication problem. I ended up translating the gist of what came across into English. The elderly person spoke very literal, deep and beautiful Cantonese like what one hears on tv or radio in Hong Kong. My father would probably have spoken all that in Hakka as he spent years mastering the Chinese language up to the level of writing poems for weddings, shop opening, funerals and festivals.
After listening to the old lady's struggles for about an hour, we adjourned up to her unit. The rubbing of ointment commenced. Then Penny used the hair dryer to apply heat therapy for better circulation. I observed the professional way Penny went about it. It is interesting that she works as in accounts receivable. With three years in the right institution, she would be a tip-top physiotherapist. Then Penny went onto playing around with three controllers: tv, Astro and dvd. Now that may be easy for a three year old, I certainly could not handle it. I much prefer reading than watching movies. Last of all, the new hand set came out. All three of us could not figure out how to charge it.
The next day, by appointment, we went for session two. We waited at the appointed place. After ten minutes, we called Diana. Diana called Zoe by Whatsapp. Then the aged came into sight pushing a shopping cart. She misplaced her access card cum house keys. It s a good thing she has a second set of keys handy. We searched high and low, up and down, from kitchen to toilet, sitting room a second time and bedroom 1 and 2. Not a whiff of the red lanyard or the green card.
I decided to pray. I prayed in English, Penny in Mandarin and Auntie in Cantonese.
After strategizing, we all agree that the access card must be in the bedroom. After the guests left, the occupant came back, locked up and changed for bed. I found the card and keys. They were hung on the right knob of a mobile mirror. The mirror was placed neatly, close to the wardrobe. In the tiny bedroom, one has to be standing on a line about two feet long, and she has to turn towards the window to see one side of the access card peeping out for about half an inch. Else the lanyard and 80% of the card would be hidden by an ornate wood carving which is part of the mirror.
Back to what Zoe requested, Penny wanted to rub ointment a second time. Auntie took some time explaining how she didn't think it would help. She wanted to go to a physician in a nearby town. Then a lot of telephone calls and texting occurred. In the end we all agreed to call a grab. First we took her down for a filling meal before we saw her safely into the right car. Mission accomplished
(at least for Penny and I).
Diana's son managed to charge the phone up fully. Diana's daughter would have to take time to teach the old lady how to use it. So you see, it is not easy at all to be good Samaritans.
We'll give Diana's friend a name, we will call her Zoe. Zoe's mum is 89 years old and she lives alone. A few days back, the old lady woke up with a sharp pain in her neck and shoulder region. She lives above a shopping mall in a tiny apartment. All her daily needs could be met on the ground floor. Well, when a person is at that age, one could not reasonably expect her to be totally self-sufficient all the time. Zoe lives in Toronto, Canada. Her mom lives many hours away in term of time zone in little Malaysia. Even though Zoe talks to her everyday, she could not apply ointment for her mom. Hence she asked Diana to find someone to visit her mom three times for one hour each just for one week. There are three tasks to accomplish during this hour, 1.rub ointment into the affected region 2. teach her mom how to navigate the tv onto playing dvd 3. teach her how to use a new phone. Zoe offered to compensate the helper a reasonable amount for the time, effort and transportation.
So on Tuesday evening, Diana managed to talk Penny into driving to meet this old lady who needed some help. I happened to tag along as I did not have other fish to fry. Diana is born a Cantonese but she is English educated. Penny is a Teochiew but went to 6 years of Chinese education. If I had not gone along, they would definitely have communication problem. I ended up translating the gist of what came across into English. The elderly person spoke very literal, deep and beautiful Cantonese like what one hears on tv or radio in Hong Kong. My father would probably have spoken all that in Hakka as he spent years mastering the Chinese language up to the level of writing poems for weddings, shop opening, funerals and festivals.
After listening to the old lady's struggles for about an hour, we adjourned up to her unit. The rubbing of ointment commenced. Then Penny used the hair dryer to apply heat therapy for better circulation. I observed the professional way Penny went about it. It is interesting that she works as in accounts receivable. With three years in the right institution, she would be a tip-top physiotherapist. Then Penny went onto playing around with three controllers: tv, Astro and dvd. Now that may be easy for a three year old, I certainly could not handle it. I much prefer reading than watching movies. Last of all, the new hand set came out. All three of us could not figure out how to charge it.
The next day, by appointment, we went for session two. We waited at the appointed place. After ten minutes, we called Diana. Diana called Zoe by Whatsapp. Then the aged came into sight pushing a shopping cart. She misplaced her access card cum house keys. It s a good thing she has a second set of keys handy. We searched high and low, up and down, from kitchen to toilet, sitting room a second time and bedroom 1 and 2. Not a whiff of the red lanyard or the green card.
I decided to pray. I prayed in English, Penny in Mandarin and Auntie in Cantonese.
After strategizing, we all agree that the access card must be in the bedroom. After the guests left, the occupant came back, locked up and changed for bed. I found the card and keys. They were hung on the right knob of a mobile mirror. The mirror was placed neatly, close to the wardrobe. In the tiny bedroom, one has to be standing on a line about two feet long, and she has to turn towards the window to see one side of the access card peeping out for about half an inch. Else the lanyard and 80% of the card would be hidden by an ornate wood carving which is part of the mirror.
Back to what Zoe requested, Penny wanted to rub ointment a second time. Auntie took some time explaining how she didn't think it would help. She wanted to go to a physician in a nearby town. Then a lot of telephone calls and texting occurred. In the end we all agreed to call a grab. First we took her down for a filling meal before we saw her safely into the right car. Mission accomplished
(at least for Penny and I).
Diana's son managed to charge the phone up fully. Diana's daughter would have to take time to teach the old lady how to use it. So you see, it is not easy at all to be good Samaritans.
(1019) Book shelves
You may look at my current title and wonder if I have gone off my rocker. Well, read on and you may think this is my best story yet.
If you have been following my blog, you would know that I believe in a God who answer prayers. Mind you, not all prayers but only those that are consistent with His will for my good.
An old friend of mine asked me out of the blue: please pray for book shelves for her 700 books. So I diligently remembered and prayed. Now, I am a lazy person. I prayed once and forgot all about it. Well, it did not seem urgent nor was it a matter of life and death. But one day, (maybe a week after I prayed about two book shelves big enough to contain 700 books) I saw suitable pieces in the local furniture shop. Accordingly I called her to tell her so quoting the price. It seemed that money had not come.
Therefore I prayed about the request, being specific about needing $500. My prayer ran like this: O God, I thanked you for remembering dear Monique's childhood dream of having a library. More than granting her the physical number of books, You have seen it fit to bestow upon her a superb collection of spiritual books about yourself and men's walk with you. My estimate of the original cost of the books run into the high end of a 4-digit figure. Surely, you would like to see those lovely books nicely arranged in proper shelves rather than reposed as stacks in the bedroom.
Guess what? The next Sunday during worship I sensed God telling me to give Monique $500. I came home and dug out my "people-in-need" fund and counted $200. Not enough money. I have not had a full time job for twenty five years. The contract teaching post I had in Sabah was a temporary part-time position. I had no tuition students for the past twelve years. Where was I going to come up with the difference? But, sure Lord, if you say so, as soon as that envelope contain $500 I will give it to Monique.
Within a few days, the amount magically reached $500. It reached its rightful owner via May bank to u. How the money came belongs to another story.
Three months after the sum went to Monique, I happily assumed that book shelves had been purchased and books were nicely arranged in alphabetical order. Life is often a lot more complicated than we think. Those 700 books have been moved from bedroom to the lounge. No book shelves in sight. I did not go to visit after I sent the amount. Monique's sister told me the lack of progress. Meanwhile, her(the sister) ex-boss was relocating and offered to give her two gigantic cabinets. As a third sister has only need for one cabinet, Monique asked for and was given the other. Note, now four women are involved. 1. Monique 2. Penny, whose ex-boss gives away cabinets 3. the ex-boss is Mandy 4. Vera, the third sister.
We note that Mandy is a kind person who rewards her former employee. Penny is caring enough to tell Vera and Monique about the cabinets from her former office which are in good condition. Vera is generous enough to pay for the transportation. So far so good, right?
For the good deed of telling her two sisters about the cabinets, Penny has to return to her former office on a Saturday afternoon to supervise loading the items onto a lorry. Vera was happy with her item. But Monique was upset because her cabinet was scratched. In the first place, the cabinets are both rather heavy. Actually it would have been better if there were three workers. But the lorry came with a driver and one attendant.
The moral of the story here is: what happened to the $500? Shouldn't Monique be shouldering half the transportation cost whereby enabling a third worker be hired? Mandy was happy that her office furniture found good homes. Penny was happy that Vera obtained a free cabinet to reduce her children's clutter. Vera, a single mother, had gotten a good bargain through the good offices of Penny.
The odd woman out now is Monique. Why was she not grateful that God cared for her enough to provide money, hard cash, to house her books? When the cabinet was sourced, she did not offer to go along to guide the loading. She actually took advantage of Vera's good will. At the end of the day, she blamed Penny for not making sure her share of the goods are perfect.
Monique has a gift in making friends with those who are generous. One of her benefactress is a Swedish woman who married a Malaysian man. The latter passed on after a heart attack. The Swedish wife was winding up her affairs to join her children in Sweden. She gave his entire collection of books to Monique.
In this story, which is real except a few changes to protect the privacy of the four people involved, I learn that the same person who may be a loyal friend to me could be very different indeed to her own flesh and blood sisters.
If you have been following my blog, you would know that I believe in a God who answer prayers. Mind you, not all prayers but only those that are consistent with His will for my good.
An old friend of mine asked me out of the blue: please pray for book shelves for her 700 books. So I diligently remembered and prayed. Now, I am a lazy person. I prayed once and forgot all about it. Well, it did not seem urgent nor was it a matter of life and death. But one day, (maybe a week after I prayed about two book shelves big enough to contain 700 books) I saw suitable pieces in the local furniture shop. Accordingly I called her to tell her so quoting the price. It seemed that money had not come.
Therefore I prayed about the request, being specific about needing $500. My prayer ran like this: O God, I thanked you for remembering dear Monique's childhood dream of having a library. More than granting her the physical number of books, You have seen it fit to bestow upon her a superb collection of spiritual books about yourself and men's walk with you. My estimate of the original cost of the books run into the high end of a 4-digit figure. Surely, you would like to see those lovely books nicely arranged in proper shelves rather than reposed as stacks in the bedroom.
Guess what? The next Sunday during worship I sensed God telling me to give Monique $500. I came home and dug out my "people-in-need" fund and counted $200. Not enough money. I have not had a full time job for twenty five years. The contract teaching post I had in Sabah was a temporary part-time position. I had no tuition students for the past twelve years. Where was I going to come up with the difference? But, sure Lord, if you say so, as soon as that envelope contain $500 I will give it to Monique.
Within a few days, the amount magically reached $500. It reached its rightful owner via May bank to u. How the money came belongs to another story.
Three months after the sum went to Monique, I happily assumed that book shelves had been purchased and books were nicely arranged in alphabetical order. Life is often a lot more complicated than we think. Those 700 books have been moved from bedroom to the lounge. No book shelves in sight. I did not go to visit after I sent the amount. Monique's sister told me the lack of progress. Meanwhile, her(the sister) ex-boss was relocating and offered to give her two gigantic cabinets. As a third sister has only need for one cabinet, Monique asked for and was given the other. Note, now four women are involved. 1. Monique 2. Penny, whose ex-boss gives away cabinets 3. the ex-boss is Mandy 4. Vera, the third sister.
We note that Mandy is a kind person who rewards her former employee. Penny is caring enough to tell Vera and Monique about the cabinets from her former office which are in good condition. Vera is generous enough to pay for the transportation. So far so good, right?
For the good deed of telling her two sisters about the cabinets, Penny has to return to her former office on a Saturday afternoon to supervise loading the items onto a lorry. Vera was happy with her item. But Monique was upset because her cabinet was scratched. In the first place, the cabinets are both rather heavy. Actually it would have been better if there were three workers. But the lorry came with a driver and one attendant.
The moral of the story here is: what happened to the $500? Shouldn't Monique be shouldering half the transportation cost whereby enabling a third worker be hired? Mandy was happy that her office furniture found good homes. Penny was happy that Vera obtained a free cabinet to reduce her children's clutter. Vera, a single mother, had gotten a good bargain through the good offices of Penny.
The odd woman out now is Monique. Why was she not grateful that God cared for her enough to provide money, hard cash, to house her books? When the cabinet was sourced, she did not offer to go along to guide the loading. She actually took advantage of Vera's good will. At the end of the day, she blamed Penny for not making sure her share of the goods are perfect.
Monique has a gift in making friends with those who are generous. One of her benefactress is a Swedish woman who married a Malaysian man. The latter passed on after a heart attack. The Swedish wife was winding up her affairs to join her children in Sweden. She gave his entire collection of books to Monique.
In this story, which is real except a few changes to protect the privacy of the four people involved, I learn that the same person who may be a loyal friend to me could be very different indeed to her own flesh and blood sisters.
Monday, October 15, 2018
(1018) Being alone in old age
My last post was about care givers of old folks. Now I'll relate the life of my friend's mother-in-law. This old lady has three children. Her eldest is a married daughter who resides in New Zealand. The second is a son who works in Qatar. The last is my friend's husband who works four hours from his home town.
The old lady lived with her youngest son's family before she had to move into an old folks' home because of her medical condition requiring 24 hour care. Before her health failed, she was a grand madam knew-it-all who insulted her daughter-in-law's cooking skills. She, in her arrogance, made a habit of telling off each of her four grand children in turn according to her moods. Nothing pleased her, she let her own lifelong frustration soured her temperament. She shouted at all and sundry without counting any possible consequences. In front of favourite, the youngest son, she was really sweet and circumspect. A few months before she moved into the old folks' home, every one of her grand children as well as her daughter-in-law stayed out of the house as much as possible.
Now that she has lost her mobility, she could not ill treat the home's staff without suffering neglect. Still she talked her wealthy daughter into paying special rate so that she could live in a two bedded room as a single inmate. Her daughter visits her once or twice a year. The son from Qatar hardly turns up. Her beloved son, my friend's husband, tries to visit her three times a year - Chinese New Year, her birthday in June and Moon Cake Festival. As the four grand children moved to different parts the country for work and tertiary education, nobody lives in the home town anymore. My friend moved to be with her husband. The proud and obnoxious old lady is reaping what she sowed, being alone day after day waiting for her beloved to visit her. It is really sad but she could not undo the past actions.
The old lady lived with her youngest son's family before she had to move into an old folks' home because of her medical condition requiring 24 hour care. Before her health failed, she was a grand madam knew-it-all who insulted her daughter-in-law's cooking skills. She, in her arrogance, made a habit of telling off each of her four grand children in turn according to her moods. Nothing pleased her, she let her own lifelong frustration soured her temperament. She shouted at all and sundry without counting any possible consequences. In front of favourite, the youngest son, she was really sweet and circumspect. A few months before she moved into the old folks' home, every one of her grand children as well as her daughter-in-law stayed out of the house as much as possible.
Now that she has lost her mobility, she could not ill treat the home's staff without suffering neglect. Still she talked her wealthy daughter into paying special rate so that she could live in a two bedded room as a single inmate. Her daughter visits her once or twice a year. The son from Qatar hardly turns up. Her beloved son, my friend's husband, tries to visit her three times a year - Chinese New Year, her birthday in June and Moon Cake Festival. As the four grand children moved to different parts the country for work and tertiary education, nobody lives in the home town anymore. My friend moved to be with her husband. The proud and obnoxious old lady is reaping what she sowed, being alone day after day waiting for her beloved to visit her. It is really sad but she could not undo the past actions.
(1017) Care giver
Being the chief care giver of old folks is by no means an easy task. Through the years I kept an ear out to pick up the detail development of my husband's alumna in a neighbouring country. When my youngest child was a month old, she came to visit us. At that point of time, she was young and had a personable nature. Through the years, the wears and tears of bearing the burdens of caring for her parents affected her adversely.
She became paranoid. Just to illustrate how far she has changed: while travelling overseas she carried two bunches of keys. One came from the locks of her home and office consisting of about twenty over individual keys. The other came from the locks of her various pieces of luggage. That alone already departed from the norm. The strange part came when different room mates (who were other alumnae) all said that she actually carried every piece of her personal belongings, including all the suitcases, into the bathroom when she showered.
She is still single and holds quite a good job. Instead of being grateful for her years of sacrificial care given to both parents, each one of her siblings seemed to find fault with her instead. I thought that was an isolated incident, sad... but life can be tough.
Lately another of my husband's contact, through business, seemed to walk in the alumna's footsteps. This contact's mom is still alive. She exhibited symptoms of not only paranoia, I would hazard to guess that she was slightly bi-polar. Over the care of her deceased dad, she fought with every one of her siblings in turn. She lived in a love-hate relationship with her mom. She claimed unknown parties broke into her office and wrecked her personal car. It became increasingly difficult to believe what she said. Yet obviously there must be real stress and fault lines leading to her erratic behaviour.
Nobody wants to send his or her parent to an old folks home. Yet very often the unmarried daughter ended up caring for one or both parents until death. It is not exactly ideal and it often exacts a certain undesired cost on the person involved.
She became paranoid. Just to illustrate how far she has changed: while travelling overseas she carried two bunches of keys. One came from the locks of her home and office consisting of about twenty over individual keys. The other came from the locks of her various pieces of luggage. That alone already departed from the norm. The strange part came when different room mates (who were other alumnae) all said that she actually carried every piece of her personal belongings, including all the suitcases, into the bathroom when she showered.
She is still single and holds quite a good job. Instead of being grateful for her years of sacrificial care given to both parents, each one of her siblings seemed to find fault with her instead. I thought that was an isolated incident, sad... but life can be tough.
Lately another of my husband's contact, through business, seemed to walk in the alumna's footsteps. This contact's mom is still alive. She exhibited symptoms of not only paranoia, I would hazard to guess that she was slightly bi-polar. Over the care of her deceased dad, she fought with every one of her siblings in turn. She lived in a love-hate relationship with her mom. She claimed unknown parties broke into her office and wrecked her personal car. It became increasingly difficult to believe what she said. Yet obviously there must be real stress and fault lines leading to her erratic behaviour.
Nobody wants to send his or her parent to an old folks home. Yet very often the unmarried daughter ended up caring for one or both parents until death. It is not exactly ideal and it often exacts a certain undesired cost on the person involved.
Thursday, August 30, 2018
(1016) Close to death
Yesterday someone asked me if I came close to death in my recent illness. On 24.7.17 the person advising patients on their nutritional intake told me that I had reached the critical low weight for my height. Should I lose anymore weight, my body would feed on my heart and I would die from a cardiac arrest. Each meal I must eat sufficient protein: two whole eggs, fish or meat the size of my palm which is one inch thick. She advised me to drink as much milk as my stomach can take, four scoops three or four times a day.
That afternoon I had a shower. I took a good look at my skeletal torso, at that moment I probably weigh less than I did at age 12. A good description would be: skin and bones. I could count easily the number of ribs I had. Believe it or not, death was standing at my elbow. Like a war correspondent described it, there is a smell to danger and death: a sharp metallic smell cutting through one's sense in every breath. Ordinarily I am a very normal person not given to fears.
Yet I knew it in my bones that it was the defining moment: either I give in, curl up and die painlessly in a morphine haze or I need to fight every inch clawing myself up a cliff side. It was far easier to choose death. After all, every one of my lambs is over 21 years old. My husband is such a wonderful man that he would have lots of women vying to be his second wife. My mum would miss me but she did fairly well in my 2 and a half years' absence.
I remember the prophesy I had in 1994: God said that I would do four things for him. I was in my late fifties and just fulfilled a prophesy I had in 1984: to serve him in Sabah. I felt upset, told death that he should leave me alone. I didn't want to die and God would heal me because of my unfinished work. It was blind faith, conviction and a strong, stubborn decision to fight to survive.
I went on to eat five meals a day, drinking so much milk that the nurses who sent it was surprised at my high intake. For two weeks my weight remained the same, then it slowly climbed half a kilo a week. It was easy to lose 2 to 3 kilos a week. It was extremely difficult to gain even a pound. It took me about six months to get to the place where I look healthy. Now I wear an American size 10, at my lowest point I borrowed a size 5 pair of pants to go to church.
In October 2017 I published my first book. In April this year I gave my first speech as an author in a senior citizen group in my city. Thus the first two tasks in the prophesy came to pass: to publish books and to give spoken message for God.
Last Sunday I met my daughter's new friend: a first year software engineering student. I was pleasantly surprised. Perhaps if we click, she would provide the software support for the third task: broadcasting (God willing). I suppose for me it is availability and obedience that are needed, all the rest is in God's ball court.
That afternoon I had a shower. I took a good look at my skeletal torso, at that moment I probably weigh less than I did at age 12. A good description would be: skin and bones. I could count easily the number of ribs I had. Believe it or not, death was standing at my elbow. Like a war correspondent described it, there is a smell to danger and death: a sharp metallic smell cutting through one's sense in every breath. Ordinarily I am a very normal person not given to fears.
Yet I knew it in my bones that it was the defining moment: either I give in, curl up and die painlessly in a morphine haze or I need to fight every inch clawing myself up a cliff side. It was far easier to choose death. After all, every one of my lambs is over 21 years old. My husband is such a wonderful man that he would have lots of women vying to be his second wife. My mum would miss me but she did fairly well in my 2 and a half years' absence.
I remember the prophesy I had in 1994: God said that I would do four things for him. I was in my late fifties and just fulfilled a prophesy I had in 1984: to serve him in Sabah. I felt upset, told death that he should leave me alone. I didn't want to die and God would heal me because of my unfinished work. It was blind faith, conviction and a strong, stubborn decision to fight to survive.
I went on to eat five meals a day, drinking so much milk that the nurses who sent it was surprised at my high intake. For two weeks my weight remained the same, then it slowly climbed half a kilo a week. It was easy to lose 2 to 3 kilos a week. It was extremely difficult to gain even a pound. It took me about six months to get to the place where I look healthy. Now I wear an American size 10, at my lowest point I borrowed a size 5 pair of pants to go to church.
In October 2017 I published my first book. In April this year I gave my first speech as an author in a senior citizen group in my city. Thus the first two tasks in the prophesy came to pass: to publish books and to give spoken message for God.
Last Sunday I met my daughter's new friend: a first year software engineering student. I was pleasantly surprised. Perhaps if we click, she would provide the software support for the third task: broadcasting (God willing). I suppose for me it is availability and obedience that are needed, all the rest is in God's ball court.
Tuesday, August 28, 2018
(1015) Elizabeth's pathway in music
When my eldest was in kindergarten, my sister-in-law sent my nephew to Yamaha toddler class. After I went to audit the class as a prospective parent, I took Kenneth to a free session. He was totally not interested.
Like a deflated balloon, I never thought of sending any of my brood to any musical activity until Elizabeth hit three years old. At three years nine months, she talked incessantly about going to school like her idol, Kenneth. We methodically visited two kindergartens, she decided on Canning Garden Methodist Kindergarten. The very first week of class, we walked past a Yamaha Music School. We heard piano music from the shop lot. Elizabeth stopped mid-step, refused to walk on and demanded that I get her "the black thing". It took me a while to realized she meant a piano.
I was then in a quandary. What if I spent a few thousands purchasing a piano but she loses interest after a year or two. One reason for this concern is we are a one-income family, money was never in abundance. Secondly we were still living in a rental house, there is not much point accumulating items. I must have shared the thought and concern in fellowship group. My Group leader's wife suggested that I approach her niece who would be in town for three months to teach Elizabeth music. If the teacher recommends continuing lessons with a permanent replacement, then perhaps I could risk buying a second hand piano.
It's difficult to forget the image of Elizabeth's first music lesson, she was actually sitting on the teacher's lap. Otherwise she would be too short to reach the piano. To summarise her journey through ten years of learning music: she did not sit for any test, neither did she spend anytime learning music theory. She did everything by listening and finger pattern recognition. In her brain there must be compartment specially prepared for this very purpose.
Today, she is in her late twenties. She plays the keyboard in the church music team. She back up sings too. During her Upper Six year she saved up money for voice lessons. She leads worship on Saturdays. If she could voice sing a song, she could accompany the song on piano, keyboard or guitar. I certainly could not figure out how she does it, since I can't even carry a tune in the correct key. God certainly knows how to send different individuals along to help Elizabeth develop her God-given gift.
Like a deflated balloon, I never thought of sending any of my brood to any musical activity until Elizabeth hit three years old. At three years nine months, she talked incessantly about going to school like her idol, Kenneth. We methodically visited two kindergartens, she decided on Canning Garden Methodist Kindergarten. The very first week of class, we walked past a Yamaha Music School. We heard piano music from the shop lot. Elizabeth stopped mid-step, refused to walk on and demanded that I get her "the black thing". It took me a while to realized she meant a piano.
I was then in a quandary. What if I spent a few thousands purchasing a piano but she loses interest after a year or two. One reason for this concern is we are a one-income family, money was never in abundance. Secondly we were still living in a rental house, there is not much point accumulating items. I must have shared the thought and concern in fellowship group. My Group leader's wife suggested that I approach her niece who would be in town for three months to teach Elizabeth music. If the teacher recommends continuing lessons with a permanent replacement, then perhaps I could risk buying a second hand piano.
It's difficult to forget the image of Elizabeth's first music lesson, she was actually sitting on the teacher's lap. Otherwise she would be too short to reach the piano. To summarise her journey through ten years of learning music: she did not sit for any test, neither did she spend anytime learning music theory. She did everything by listening and finger pattern recognition. In her brain there must be compartment specially prepared for this very purpose.
Today, she is in her late twenties. She plays the keyboard in the church music team. She back up sings too. During her Upper Six year she saved up money for voice lessons. She leads worship on Saturdays. If she could voice sing a song, she could accompany the song on piano, keyboard or guitar. I certainly could not figure out how she does it, since I can't even carry a tune in the correct key. God certainly knows how to send different individuals along to help Elizabeth develop her God-given gift.
(1014) Maids
A big part of Malaysian family life ties up with maids. Why do I say so? Just look at my high school reunion lunch: there were 7 women: Julie whose maid worked for her at least 15 years, Vickie who changed maids every two years, Katie who uses two maids for the past 30 years, Felicia who hailed from USA (no maid), Lily who resides in Singapore (no maid), Minnie who lives in Australia (no maid) and I (sometimes I hire part-time maids to help in my spring cleaning).
As you can see, out of seven women from the same high school; the four who did not migrate have had dealings with maids in their daily lives. One calls in hourly help, one had a long term lived in maid, two live with two maids who come and go according to contracts.
I have come across fantastic maids who serve their employers faithfully and are therefore treated like part of the family. For example, Siti who worked many years for Mr and Mrs Soh in Silver City and she came from the capital in Sulawesi. There is Auntie who served twenty years with Sheryl's family. This enterprising woman saved up enough to buy land, build chalets and is now running a homestay resort off the internet in Jawa. Yet there is Cathy (Filipina) who is honest as the day is long who spent two decades cleaning mum's 7 bedroom mansion...
However, there are heart-rending tales: my cousin's trusted 19 year long-stay Indonesian maid cleaned out her jewels collection when she left for good. It was terrible to lose one's heirloom and hard earned beautiful pieces at one blow. More than that, I'm sure it was a horrible feeling to be betrayed by one whom a person trusted so well.
Then there is the deSilver family's saga. Their paragon had long been all the neighbours' envy. At long last, the model maid's children asked her to return to her hometown to enjoy her well earned rest. The maid, who is an expert baker, baked two cakes on her second last day at work. These were beautifully decorated cakes. One she planned to take home on the returning flight. The other was for her employer's children. Unbeknown to everyone else, the youngest child in the house surveyed both cakes and switched them.
All went according to clockwork. The maid was sent off with good wishes and much affection at the airport. The family concerned came home, very glad they would enjoy one more wonderful cake. They cut into the attractive cake finding the mistress' jewels hidden inside. Imagine the shock! While they must be glad to be safe from financial loses, it must be a bitter taste in the mouth to feel a sense of betrayal!
As you can see, out of seven women from the same high school; the four who did not migrate have had dealings with maids in their daily lives. One calls in hourly help, one had a long term lived in maid, two live with two maids who come and go according to contracts.
I have come across fantastic maids who serve their employers faithfully and are therefore treated like part of the family. For example, Siti who worked many years for Mr and Mrs Soh in Silver City and she came from the capital in Sulawesi. There is Auntie who served twenty years with Sheryl's family. This enterprising woman saved up enough to buy land, build chalets and is now running a homestay resort off the internet in Jawa. Yet there is Cathy (Filipina) who is honest as the day is long who spent two decades cleaning mum's 7 bedroom mansion...
However, there are heart-rending tales: my cousin's trusted 19 year long-stay Indonesian maid cleaned out her jewels collection when she left for good. It was terrible to lose one's heirloom and hard earned beautiful pieces at one blow. More than that, I'm sure it was a horrible feeling to be betrayed by one whom a person trusted so well.
Then there is the deSilver family's saga. Their paragon had long been all the neighbours' envy. At long last, the model maid's children asked her to return to her hometown to enjoy her well earned rest. The maid, who is an expert baker, baked two cakes on her second last day at work. These were beautifully decorated cakes. One she planned to take home on the returning flight. The other was for her employer's children. Unbeknown to everyone else, the youngest child in the house surveyed both cakes and switched them.
All went according to clockwork. The maid was sent off with good wishes and much affection at the airport. The family concerned came home, very glad they would enjoy one more wonderful cake. They cut into the attractive cake finding the mistress' jewels hidden inside. Imagine the shock! While they must be glad to be safe from financial loses, it must be a bitter taste in the mouth to feel a sense of betrayal!
Friday, August 24, 2018
1013 Dream about the afterlife
When I returned from America with a newly minted degree and a brand new faith, my father gave me a serious talking to. In his opinion I would be better off sticking to my Chinese folk beliefs. As he put it, for thousands of years my ancestors believed in a blend of Taoism and facets of Buddhism, what made me think that I know any better than my forebears? Well, that is not exactly accurate! My maternal grandmother's biological family members were practicing Christians. Actually my grand uncle was a pastor in Hong Kong after the Communist takeover of China. At least one of my grand aunts was a Bible Woman: a full time staff of the local church. Anyway, thousands of years ago, emperors in China actually sacrificed once a year in an altar out of the imperial capital to Jehovah.
My father lived another twenty years after that discussion. As he felt strongly about my wrong choice, I grew to be certain that I chose the correct faith for myself. A conversation about religion did not take place without anger and raised voice. We learned to steer well away from religion, faith, and conviction. Meanwhile, I knew he would not live forever. Hence I often prayed that God would be merciful to him and grant him a death bed confession.
God is really faithful. He gave me what I asked. After a fall or two, my father was in the hospital. He complained that the nurses did not take him to the bathroom for a proper bath. I could certainly see why, my father is a tall and big man who gained much weight after he stopped walking around town. Since the diagnosis was first stage cancer in the pancreas, my brothers and I decided that we should grant his wish to have proper baths in a nursing home. He spent one night there. The next morning he collapsed in the bathroom and his face turned blue. The nursing home manager was a former paramedic, she resuscitated him with oxygen. My brother and family turned up and brought him his favourite food. He wanted to return home, I supposed he must have known he was about to die. After the visitors left, I turned up with my eldest son. My father complained about stomach ache. I rubbed his tummy with medicated oil and arranged a bolster he asked for under his feet as they were swollen. He began to be agitated and to peek at the window nervously. When I realised that he must have seen spirits that I could not see, my son and I started to sing every song about the cross and the precious blood of Jesus. He held on to my hand and I have never seen him so scared before. My pastor and a church brother managed to find us after going to four other nursing homes in the vicinity. You see, not every nursing home has sign boards.
By then, my father could not talk. Pastor urged him to nod his head, blink his eye. But he could only stare at us beseechingly. Anyway, Pastor prayed and asked God to be merciful to my father and hear his heart cry. Within five minutes, my father breathed his last. There was a well formed tear that fell from one of his eyes. I was surprised, for my father was a macho man who never cried. For a pre-believer, my father had a very fast and easy death, according to Pastor who knew about such things. But I wanted to know for sure where my father had gone to, so I prayed that God would be merciful and give me a sign.
A few nights later, I dreamed. In the dream, I was driving in Silver City. I went to a supermarket to buy the daily vegetables, and I saw my father in the car park. Then I drove my youngest daughter to school and I saw him standing behind my car. I asked him why did he follow me around, after all I am living and he had died. He smiled and I told him to look for the light and Jesus would be waiting for him there. He waved his hand and indeed turned to a bright corner and walked away.
I thanked God for the dream. Now I am confident that when I enter heaven I will find him in the heavenly library or information centre, adding to his store of knowledge.
My father lived another twenty years after that discussion. As he felt strongly about my wrong choice, I grew to be certain that I chose the correct faith for myself. A conversation about religion did not take place without anger and raised voice. We learned to steer well away from religion, faith, and conviction. Meanwhile, I knew he would not live forever. Hence I often prayed that God would be merciful to him and grant him a death bed confession.
God is really faithful. He gave me what I asked. After a fall or two, my father was in the hospital. He complained that the nurses did not take him to the bathroom for a proper bath. I could certainly see why, my father is a tall and big man who gained much weight after he stopped walking around town. Since the diagnosis was first stage cancer in the pancreas, my brothers and I decided that we should grant his wish to have proper baths in a nursing home. He spent one night there. The next morning he collapsed in the bathroom and his face turned blue. The nursing home manager was a former paramedic, she resuscitated him with oxygen. My brother and family turned up and brought him his favourite food. He wanted to return home, I supposed he must have known he was about to die. After the visitors left, I turned up with my eldest son. My father complained about stomach ache. I rubbed his tummy with medicated oil and arranged a bolster he asked for under his feet as they were swollen. He began to be agitated and to peek at the window nervously. When I realised that he must have seen spirits that I could not see, my son and I started to sing every song about the cross and the precious blood of Jesus. He held on to my hand and I have never seen him so scared before. My pastor and a church brother managed to find us after going to four other nursing homes in the vicinity. You see, not every nursing home has sign boards.
By then, my father could not talk. Pastor urged him to nod his head, blink his eye. But he could only stare at us beseechingly. Anyway, Pastor prayed and asked God to be merciful to my father and hear his heart cry. Within five minutes, my father breathed his last. There was a well formed tear that fell from one of his eyes. I was surprised, for my father was a macho man who never cried. For a pre-believer, my father had a very fast and easy death, according to Pastor who knew about such things. But I wanted to know for sure where my father had gone to, so I prayed that God would be merciful and give me a sign.
A few nights later, I dreamed. In the dream, I was driving in Silver City. I went to a supermarket to buy the daily vegetables, and I saw my father in the car park. Then I drove my youngest daughter to school and I saw him standing behind my car. I asked him why did he follow me around, after all I am living and he had died. He smiled and I told him to look for the light and Jesus would be waiting for him there. He waved his hand and indeed turned to a bright corner and walked away.
I thanked God for the dream. Now I am confident that when I enter heaven I will find him in the heavenly library or information centre, adding to his store of knowledge.
Monday, August 20, 2018
1012 Food for the cat who adopted my mum
A lot has happened since I last posted from Borneo. Now I am back in my Peninsular home. By God's grace I survived a cancer episode. Last year I published a book written thirty five years ago. Right now I am awaiting my volunteer proof reader to go through the manuscript of my second book. From the sale of my first book I have managed to put aside about six hundred dollars. Yesterday my brother gave me eight hundred. Perhaps by the time my second proof reader gets through my work, I may have the 1,600 dollars to print a thousand copies before the end of this calendar year.
After I came out of the hospital last year, I began to notice a black and white cat who visited my mother often. I came from a poor family with a single income. Six of us lived on my dad's two hundred and thirty dollars monthly when I was six years old. The only pet I recall having was a green tiny turtle my dad rescued near his office. Apparently the heavy rain overflowed the ornamental pond of some nearby rich man's house. I was very taken with the cat as it was discreet, undemanding and came daily to spend time with my eighty-five year old mother. My mum kept a ready supply of clean water for the cat in exchange for its frightening away the mice.
Five weeks back, the cat stopped appearing in the morning. I kept a continual look out for it during my bi-weekly visits. For four days over a two week period, it came after high noon, looking foot worn and instead of cleaning itself; it slept. We came to the natural conclusion that its owner either went away on vacation or moved away. I was looking at it sleeping in exhaustion when I thought: God, wouldn't it be nice if you could give me some money to supply food to this poor cat so that it could continue to come spend time with my almost deaf mother. It was a fleeting thought and I soon forgot the momentary wish.
Lo and behold, a few days later, I received a designated offering in the offering bag in my church. It was one hundred dollars. That was unusual, as I was neither a pastor nor a missionary. It took me a few days to recall my fleeting thought and realised that the money was meant for the cat. Well, the money was spent on purchasing bags of Whiskas cat food. I calculated I have about eight months' worth of food to feed the cat who adopted my mother. I am very touched that God loves me, my mother and a cat enough to make provision for its upkeep. We serve an amazing God of love.
After I came out of the hospital last year, I began to notice a black and white cat who visited my mother often. I came from a poor family with a single income. Six of us lived on my dad's two hundred and thirty dollars monthly when I was six years old. The only pet I recall having was a green tiny turtle my dad rescued near his office. Apparently the heavy rain overflowed the ornamental pond of some nearby rich man's house. I was very taken with the cat as it was discreet, undemanding and came daily to spend time with my eighty-five year old mother. My mum kept a ready supply of clean water for the cat in exchange for its frightening away the mice.
Five weeks back, the cat stopped appearing in the morning. I kept a continual look out for it during my bi-weekly visits. For four days over a two week period, it came after high noon, looking foot worn and instead of cleaning itself; it slept. We came to the natural conclusion that its owner either went away on vacation or moved away. I was looking at it sleeping in exhaustion when I thought: God, wouldn't it be nice if you could give me some money to supply food to this poor cat so that it could continue to come spend time with my almost deaf mother. It was a fleeting thought and I soon forgot the momentary wish.
Lo and behold, a few days later, I received a designated offering in the offering bag in my church. It was one hundred dollars. That was unusual, as I was neither a pastor nor a missionary. It took me a few days to recall my fleeting thought and realised that the money was meant for the cat. Well, the money was spent on purchasing bags of Whiskas cat food. I calculated I have about eight months' worth of food to feed the cat who adopted my mother. I am very touched that God loves me, my mother and a cat enough to make provision for its upkeep. We serve an amazing God of love.
Monday, March 16, 2015
(1011) Called in Sabah
June
said I wanted to come to Sabah. Actually that is not true. Since my
father returned from a stint of working in Tawau, I had the
impression that northern Borneo was the end of modern civilization.
One
Christmas John went to an end-of-year dinner of some club and bid for a
hotel stay in Sandakan. He spent many weeks talking me into flying
into the town. Finally it was because I wanted to see Lilian's baby
that I reluctantly came.
While
here, I caught a beautiful view of the bay from a look-out point near
Agnes Keith House. No, that peek was not why I am here now. After
all, I've seen much more beautiful sea views near San Francisco.
The
second night I was in Sandakan, I woke up between two to three am. I
thought I heard someone call me. No, it was not my husband; he was
snoring. Being Asian, I did not reply. I remembered one of the
childhood stories my grandmother used to tell me: the old folks say
one should not answer to calls of one's name if one could not see the
caller, hence my silence. I puzzled for a moment then went back to
sleep.
It
was on the plane that I suddenly wondered if God had called me. And I
beat myself for not answering, “Yes Lord, speak, for your servant
is listening.”
Sunday, March 15, 2015
(1010) Windfall of Coconuts
As I
was sitting in my backyard yesterday, three contract sanitation
workers came to cut the grass and clear the big drain. One of them
wielded a lightweight cutter, the other cleared the drain behind the
first, and the third one chopped the brambles ahead of his
colleagues.
On
their way back, the one with the cutter asked if the coconut trees
behind my property were mine. “No,” I said as I pointed to the
big house three hundred feet across the hill. He smiled and told his
colleagues something before he climbed up the shorter tree. He was
graceful. There was a certain cadence in the way he swung himself up
the narrow trunk progressively using both arms and legs.
Once
he reached the cluster of brown coconuts, he twisted and sent about
ten, one after another, down into the waiting hands below. Looking at
them, they were definitely used to handling coconuts. The climber
hugged three to his chest. The drain-clearer held two, one in each
hand. The bush-clearer managed to take one while his other hand held
the machete.
An
hour later, an old man walked past. He saw the coconuts on the
wayside and picked up two to take home. I wonder if they are going to
use the white flesh to make dessert or squeeze the milk out to cook
curry?
Saturday, March 14, 2015
(1009) Merely Owner in Name
I
have neighbours who are a newly-wed couple. The young wife is the
legal owner of the house. However, it was her mother who brought a
maid to clean that house successive afternoons before her wedding.
When the house was physically clean, the man's family came in. It
took quite a few people to chop down and burn five feet tall lalang
(prairie grass) in the
backyard.
This
couple either travels frequently or their work takes them out of town
often. When the wife works outstation, we see the man living alone.
When the husband leaves town, the wife presumably goes back to her
parents' house. Infrequently we see the husband hang out his clothes.
In about three months though, I noticed her clothes only twice.
It is
quite interesting that a house fully furnished with a fridge, stove,
hot water heater, TV, air-conditioners, kitchen cabinets and more
could not keep the young wife there. She kept spending time and
staying overnight in her parents' house. Could it be that she misses
the maid's service so much that she treats her own abode like a
hotel?
If
the legal owner of the house does not keep it clean, would her
husband bother to mop and sweep? How long will the mother of this
young lady bear the responsibility of ferrying a maid to and fro to
clean house for her daughter?
Friday, March 13, 2015
(1008) The Theory of Cleaning
My
cousin's parents helped him purchase a house. A double-storey terrace
house in any city of note costs about 700 to 800 thousand dollars.
That price tag is well beyond the means of most young men in my
country. Hence Kong's parents came up with half of the price in
cash. The house was put in Kong's and his mother's names.
Kong's
grandma was a little miffed at this arrangement. Well, I gently
reminded her that Kong's mum bought a new car for the exclusive use
of his sister. Through the months though, we noticed the young lady
did not wash the car at all. It was the poor mum who cleaned it
weekly despite her hectic schedule.
I
asked Kong once why he washed his car but his sister didn't wash
hers. His answer was illuminating. Kong has a confirmed job and used
his name to borrow money for the car purchase. It is normal for the
named owner to clean his car. His sister, however, was driving her
mum's car. In that case, the actual owner is responsible for cleaning
her car.
Therefore,
I propounded my theory that Kong's dad is wise. The owners of the
newly-bought house, his son and his wife, would then be responsible
to clean or to pay someone to clean that house.
Thursday, March 12, 2015
(1007) Beaked and Feathered Grass Cutters
My
three egg lay-ers are in one cage. Last week they roamed free in the
backyard. One after the other they flew over to my neighbour's and
scratched their sink, stove and washing machine top. Granted, they
were wired to look for the best nesting site, but it was still a
nuisance to risk chicken droppings on a cooking surface.
And
so, while all other chickens roam free during daylight hours, those
three poor sods are now confined in one rabbit cage. My son and I
keep fourteen chickens in our 20x80 feet backyard. We keep them for
eggs. A by-product is having a grass-cutting service. We figure it
would at least cost $60 monthly to bring in a grass cutter. What
really makes it not probable is that there is no back gate. An alien
grass cutter would have to traipse past my living area from the front
to access the grassy area. Since I don't like the idea of a stranger
traversing my living room and kitchen, I resort to dealing with the
grass myself.
These
chickens are Asian in food preference. They prefer cooked rice to
bread. They would eat soaked beans of all sorts early in the morning.
Vegetables that are cut, whether cooked or raw, are eaten with gusto
with rice and gravy. Yes! They like sweet or salty gravy. They love
papaya seeds and skin too. In fact, they eat grains, vegetables,
fruits and whatever else we give them. Their all-time favourite is
fatty pork. Perhaps it is preferred because of its scarcity. When we
eat pork, we save the fatty parts and cut them into small bits to
make sure each chicken gets at least a few bites.
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
(1006) Behind Time No Longer
When
I first came to northern Borneo, I was surprised that it became
completely dark at 6:15pm. Of course it could not be compared to a
dark, cold, windy twilight at 3:30pm in Washington DC in winter!
Then
it came to me that during my few rail journeys from Penang to Bangkok
and then Chiangmai, sunrise and sunset were around 6am or 6pm by Thai
time. So that is what it would be like if the time zone is smack on
an area as it should be.
In
Kuala Lumpur, the sun does not rise until about 7am in January.
Correspondingly, it does not set until about 8pm. Of course,
Peninsular adopted that time zone to be in sync with Sabah and
Sarawak. Therefore in Peninsular, people would have to live with a
late sunrise and therefore a late sunset; after all, that is the most
accurate time zone for western Sabah.
Anyway,
I am reaping the benefits now. I sleep earlier and awake earlier.
That would be one of the criteria of a healthy life.
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
(1005) Malaysian 'San Diego'
It
was high noon. I stood in the shadow cast by my neighbour's
extension. The sky was as blue as any seen in any tourist postcard.
There were white clouds that look like cotton candy fluff.
The
wind – O beautiful cooling wind – blew the coconut and banana
leaves. It made a sound that can put a person to sleep. It was so
peaceful and relaxing. The only time I experienced stronger wind was
in the Appalachians (USA) in winter. This state (Sabah, north east on Borneo) is called the land
below the wind. Although the hurricanes that slashed through the
Philippines usually bypass here, we do have strong wind often.
I
don't know if it is due to the monsoons (or could it be the cool wind
from the sea?) but it is cool. If I stay in the shade, I could be
wearing long pants and a long-sleeved shirt, and not feel hot. Yet
this area is hardly one hundred feet above sea level. And we are
definitely within the tropics. I thank God that in this season, I can
enjoy cool wind while being under the hot sun.
This
wonderful feeling of being cooled by the breeze brings to mind San
Diego in summer. No matter how high the temperature was, once I
stepped into any shade I would feel cooled by the cold wind.
Anyway,
I am thankful that I needn't drive up to Kundasan (a highland) to
experience cool wind.
Monday, March 9, 2015
(1004) Tales of Monitor Lizards
I was
standing at my sink washing dishes. Suddenly the chickens were
squawking loudly! I looked up and saw a small green monitor lizard
(about a foot and a half long) trying to get into my egg lay-er's
cage. He could not, of course! The wires are too close together to
even allow a three-inch-in-diameter body through.
By
the time I was out with a broom, the lizard was high-tailing it out
of the fence to the underdeveloped hill slope beyond.
That
image brought back the memory of the monitor lizard we saw in Ipoh
many years ago. I was driving my children back from afternoon
activities in school. It was probably about four-thirty. A huge brown
monitor lizard (probably three to four feet long) was meandering
along the paved road intersecting the road in front of my house. It
was huge. Its body at the widest point was bigger than that of my
ten-year-old daughter (granted, she was a little on the skinny side).
I
banked my car as a group of Indonesian cooks (there was a catering
service in a nearby shop) crossed the road, chasing the monitor
lizard. Later we heard yells of victory—they
must have cornered and caught the lizard. It was considered a rare
delicacy.
Sunday, March 8, 2015
(1003) Fears of Unemployability
My
husband's cousin used to study geography in uni. Everyone who heard
about it at that time said she would have problems finding a job.
But
upon graduation she migrated to Australia. There she picked up a
Master's in Town Planning and thereafter became a city employee of
Melbourne.
My
best friend's brother was in geology way before petroleum was
discovered in my country. Wonder of wonders! When he graduated he had
three job offers: Shell, BP and Petronas. By now he has been to the
far corners of four continents prospecting for oil.
My
youngest is graduating with an English Literature degree soon. I
wonder if God will be kind to her and throw her a hot job despite the
so-called 'cold' field she is in.
Saturday, March 7, 2015
(1002) No Grandchildren in Sight
When
my schoolmates gathered at age fifty-two, one of the ladies talked
about her anguish at having an only son and having to put up with his
idiosyncrasies:-
- To buy cars with part-time job earnings then fixing one before wrecking it while speeding;
- To have moods and bouts of depression at late teens. Her husband had put in an attached bathroom for every bedroom and installed bedroom door locks. So she spent weeks unable to sleep, wondering if her son would commit suicide inside his domain;
- To refuse higher education for one year after high school graduation;
- To contemplate moving to Sydney with his girlfriend, leaving his parents behind in Perth; and
- To keep talking about quitting his stable government job and coming out to freelance in fashion designing.
The
one sore point then was that the son had a live-in girlfriend whom
she approved, yet both had no desire to get married. She said she was
old-fashioned and would like to have grandchildren.
This
is the year of the goat by Chinese calendar. That means my youngest
will hit 24 soon. I don't see any sign of a boyfriend or girlfriend
for any of my children. Marriage? Not in the picture. Grandchildren?
None yet in the foreseeable
future.
Friday, March 6, 2015
(1001) Golden Leaves of Nature
We
live in a terraced, double-storey house with a long backyard. Our
left-hand neighbour built an extension right up to ten feet before
the back boundary. As a result of that, we enjoy the shadow cast by
the extension from 12:01pm onwards. By 4pm our entire backyard is in
shadow.
Beyond
our back boundary is a deep drain. There is an overgrown path that
grass cutters and drain-clearers use. Then there is a bluff of
perhaps thirty feet. Wild chickens travel down the bluff easily on
trails they create daily. On top of the bluff is a strip of land,
perhaps 1,000 yards. This land is filled with coconut, mango and
other fruit trees. Next to the drain two houses away, we have a thick
bamboo grove.
Across
the vacant land there is a big house with a few outbuildings. We
heard that it is empty and strangers would rent it at $400 a night.
Well, at that steep price, it is more often empty.
I
grew up in the city. It is here that I realise that poets are right
in writing about the sound made by bamboo, coconut and banana trees.
These sounds are different, one from another. They are restful and
bring peace to our souls.
There
are at least two hours from sunrise till the time sunlight finally
hits my backyard. In fact the contrast between the green grass in
shadow and the leaves of the tall trees on the bluff bathed in early
sunlight is exceptionally beautiful. Now I see why light green bathed
in early morning sunshine can be described as golden. We live in a
beautiful world.
Thursday, March 5, 2015
(1000) Going Green with Rainwater
It
seems that Boston received more than 100cm of snow in the first week
of February 2015. At the same time, here I am in Sabah experiencing
the lack of rainwater in the backyard tank.
Living
in a tropical climate, it is common to have close to 100 inches of
rainfall per year. Yet nobody collects rainwater in the mass-produced
housing in Selangor or Federal Territory in Peninsular.
Still,
I find it handy to have rainwater to use for hand-washing my clothes
daily. I also use the same supply for cleaning chicken droppings off
my cemented back portion.
Officially,
we should be having the North-East Monsoon from September until
March. Yet practically, this is the first time in eight months that
the water level of my 10-band tank is at band 3.
In
the past months, I generally pay the minimum water charge of $5 per
month. At the same time, by conserving electricity – using measures
such as no air-conditioning unless absolutely necessary, cold-water
baths, every appliance plug taken out when not in use, rice cooker
used only 4 times per month – I managed to keep the electric bill
to $16-19. For any amount less than $20, there is no need to pay. I
suppose I belong to the poor category when it comes to electrical
use. It fits in with my conviction of reducing my carbon footprint
and recycling every bit of resource that passes through my hands.
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
(268) Catching more of USA
This afternoon I have been
fortunate in catching a program: 'The World From Above” on Channel
571, Astro. It showcased parts of North Dakota: beginning with the
north-west corner, followed by a few towns then ending on Mount
Rushmore.
If there is anything I
missed the most these eight months, it is this program. I used to
catch it now and then while visiting my mum twice a week. My elder
brother subscribes to Astro in Peninsular.
One of my neighbours went
back to Peninsular during CNY the past week. During my daily 2-5pm
viewing, this is the first time I managed to catch this program. I am
most grateful to my neighbours as well as their maid for this
privilege.
During my undergraduate
years in the US as a scholarship student, I visited fourteen states.
Now with NASA's satellite technology, I am slowly viewing more parts
of USA remotely via Astro. Of course, I have also viewed South Africa
as well as parts of Europe through this program. While it is
interesting to see other continents, mainly it is helping me fulfil
my desire to visit more states of USA by catching more segments on
TV.
Monday, March 3, 2014
(270) Chicken saga continues
It is astonishing how much fourteen chickens can eat. When white-speckled cockerel started crowing, I thought, 'That's it! I will give away a few of them.'
First I opened the cage and caught the blue-highlight, black male. He struggled valiantly. I held on to him tightly. With the other hand, I closed the cage and caught his legs. Then I tied them together with a short length of twine.
Next I caught the biggest female which had not started laying. It was easier to control her as by size, she was smaller than the male. When she was trussed up, in she went to the box with the male.
Then I took the male with a black-feathered father and a pale-feathered mother. Interestingly, the offspring is not attractive in plumage. The scattering of brownish feathers among the predominant black looks dirty.
By then my son had returned and he caught the biggest: the white-speckled cockerel. While he held on securely, I tied the big bird's legs. This chicken is easily four times in weight compared to the blue-highlight, black male.
It was tiring struggling with chickens. I almost tripped on the stairs going up to change before driving the chickens to their destination.
Big fat white-speckled would make a delicious meal for an extended family on a holiday weekend. The three smaller ones would probably be kept to start a brood of chickens who can fly. I certainly hope that this gift would solve my friend's problem of losing chickens to monitor lizards.
First I opened the cage and caught the blue-highlight, black male. He struggled valiantly. I held on to him tightly. With the other hand, I closed the cage and caught his legs. Then I tied them together with a short length of twine.
Next I caught the biggest female which had not started laying. It was easier to control her as by size, she was smaller than the male. When she was trussed up, in she went to the box with the male.
Then I took the male with a black-feathered father and a pale-feathered mother. Interestingly, the offspring is not attractive in plumage. The scattering of brownish feathers among the predominant black looks dirty.
By then my son had returned and he caught the biggest: the white-speckled cockerel. While he held on securely, I tied the big bird's legs. This chicken is easily four times in weight compared to the blue-highlight, black male.
It was tiring struggling with chickens. I almost tripped on the stairs going up to change before driving the chickens to their destination.
Big fat white-speckled would make a delicious meal for an extended family on a holiday weekend. The three smaller ones would probably be kept to start a brood of chickens who can fly. I certainly hope that this gift would solve my friend's problem of losing chickens to monitor lizards.
Thursday, July 25, 2013
(267) Pole to Pole by Palin
If you are an Agatha Christie fan, do you know that she actually wrote Murder on the Orient Express in Room 411 of Pera Palas Hotel in Istanbul?
Apparently Warner Brothers wanted to make a film of the missing 11 days in her life, you know it was when she disappeared but was found in a resort under her husband's lover's name. From consulting a medium, the room was searched on 7 March 1979 and a rusty key was found under the floor boards. Sad to say, the hotel President demanded an exorbitant sum and Warner Brothers refused to comply. Therefore, her diary for that period is still locked somewhere and the key to access that was in turn locked in a safe to safeguard the Hotel's interest.
I was fascinated reading this account on pages 98 and 99.
Apparently Warner Brothers wanted to make a film of the missing 11 days in her life, you know it was when she disappeared but was found in a resort under her husband's lover's name. From consulting a medium, the room was searched on 7 March 1979 and a rusty key was found under the floor boards. Sad to say, the hotel President demanded an exorbitant sum and Warner Brothers refused to comply. Therefore, her diary for that period is still locked somewhere and the key to access that was in turn locked in a safe to safeguard the Hotel's interest.
I was fascinated reading this account on pages 98 and 99.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
(266) Possession in Death by J.D.Robb
This story reminded me of recent crimes both in Germany and USA. It is heinous to kidnap young women, detain them against their wishes to do things they would not want to. In Germany it happened in an underground dwelling. In USA it actually happened in a house with near neighbors. In this story the unbalanced perp just wanted to dance with those beautiful girls until a new one comes. Then he had to kill the old one with tears.
The twist in the story is having the deceased grandma taking possession of the detective's body to find the victim added color to the plot.
The twist in the story is having the deceased grandma taking possession of the detective's body to find the victim added color to the plot.
(265) Chaos in Death by J.D.Robb
This series is written by Nora Roberts under another pen name.
I must say that I prefer to read her in her romantic genre. In Chaos in Death, I detected a modern version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The writing is of course Nora Robert smooth, yet somehow it does not sound original. A commercial success, no doubt! I probably would not purchase and keep any one of the 39 books listed.
Yet to be fair, if you choose to pay 35.90 of my local currency you do get an entertaining read.
I must say that I prefer to read her in her romantic genre. In Chaos in Death, I detected a modern version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The writing is of course Nora Robert smooth, yet somehow it does not sound original. A commercial success, no doubt! I probably would not purchase and keep any one of the 39 books listed.
Yet to be fair, if you choose to pay 35.90 of my local currency you do get an entertaining read.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
(264) Beautiful faces
Elizabeth was looking at her friend's face book picture, and she commented that Kylie has a very distinctive face. I sneaked one glance and said she looked a little like my childhood friend Primrose. The busy body in me went on to say that Kylie would likely marry very well - in terms of her future husband's looks and financial circumstances.
However, there is usually one catch: really beautiful women may not have daughters or some of them may be infertile. Here I quoted Primrose is childless, my school friend Serene who has two boys, my cousin-in-law who has two sons and adopted a girl from Korea. There was Princess Diana. My own sister-in-law has two boys and could not have any more children...
It is almost as if nature conspired to make sure such beautiful genes are not passed on to the next generation. Well, my Thai cook friend told me that her elder sister in Southern Thailand has a very beautiful daughter. At age thirteen, suitors came. One serious proposal was rejected. Another good proposal came at age 14, this time the parents knew they could not say no as the prospective groom is a good guy and he came from a good family. They managed to delay the wedding until the girl was 15. But under the circumstances the poor beautiful girl never get to complete her education. You see, if the parents had objected again, some bad guy would kidnap and forced her to marry whom she abhor because the parents are arrogant in continuing to reject suitors.
However, there is usually one catch: really beautiful women may not have daughters or some of them may be infertile. Here I quoted Primrose is childless, my school friend Serene who has two boys, my cousin-in-law who has two sons and adopted a girl from Korea. There was Princess Diana. My own sister-in-law has two boys and could not have any more children...
It is almost as if nature conspired to make sure such beautiful genes are not passed on to the next generation. Well, my Thai cook friend told me that her elder sister in Southern Thailand has a very beautiful daughter. At age thirteen, suitors came. One serious proposal was rejected. Another good proposal came at age 14, this time the parents knew they could not say no as the prospective groom is a good guy and he came from a good family. They managed to delay the wedding until the girl was 15. But under the circumstances the poor beautiful girl never get to complete her education. You see, if the parents had objected again, some bad guy would kidnap and forced her to marry whom she abhor because the parents are arrogant in continuing to reject suitors.
Saturday, July 20, 2013
(263) Unwritten sex rules
In Bed of Roses by Nora Roberts, I read about the rule among girl friends that once a guy was "taken" sexually, the others are not supposed to "conquer" him. I suppose I must be both conservative and from the older generation that sex both outside and inside of marriage was not discussed even among bosom friends in my home country.
I remember when I just returned from college abroad, I was so lonely that I connected with a lady lawyer qualified from UK. We spent a lot of time together doing many things. I even caught quite a few theater shows with her and her different escorts. At that point she didn't drive and I didn't have a car. So naturally she requested whomever to date her to pick me up during the weekends. After the show, he would send me home and went on to the next destination with her.
She dated an accountant, a business manager, an architect, an engineer and well, another lawyer. At least I met all five briefly. It was the fellow lawyer that she pointed out to me. Apparently he was together with another lawyer for four years in UK. I have met his long term girl friend in another party. Interestingly, that girl married shortly after that, but with another chap. Sad to say, the lady involved has had quite a number of miscarriages after her marriage. Much later, we found out that the cause of those miscarriages : the petite and short lady has been taking over the counter birth control pills for more than four years and those pills were designed for white women seven inches taller whose body mass many kilograms heavier.
In the end the couple concerned decided to adopt a Korean orphan girl and they migrated to Australia. From this brief meeting, it seemed that course mates from British universities do date friends' ex-lived ins. Perhaps, one rule works in one country but not another. Well, the law circles in my home town are relatively small, one would have to deal with one's ex professionally and socially to a certain extent. It certainly would not help if one's ex work in the same firm or if one's seniors in the firm become married to one's ex. But then for those concerned, it would have to be all in a day's work!
I remember when I just returned from college abroad, I was so lonely that I connected with a lady lawyer qualified from UK. We spent a lot of time together doing many things. I even caught quite a few theater shows with her and her different escorts. At that point she didn't drive and I didn't have a car. So naturally she requested whomever to date her to pick me up during the weekends. After the show, he would send me home and went on to the next destination with her.
She dated an accountant, a business manager, an architect, an engineer and well, another lawyer. At least I met all five briefly. It was the fellow lawyer that she pointed out to me. Apparently he was together with another lawyer for four years in UK. I have met his long term girl friend in another party. Interestingly, that girl married shortly after that, but with another chap. Sad to say, the lady involved has had quite a number of miscarriages after her marriage. Much later, we found out that the cause of those miscarriages : the petite and short lady has been taking over the counter birth control pills for more than four years and those pills were designed for white women seven inches taller whose body mass many kilograms heavier.
In the end the couple concerned decided to adopt a Korean orphan girl and they migrated to Australia. From this brief meeting, it seemed that course mates from British universities do date friends' ex-lived ins. Perhaps, one rule works in one country but not another. Well, the law circles in my home town are relatively small, one would have to deal with one's ex professionally and socially to a certain extent. It certainly would not help if one's ex work in the same firm or if one's seniors in the firm become married to one's ex. But then for those concerned, it would have to be all in a day's work!
(262) Rage
This morning Elizabeth, my youngest, asked if she did something bad in her childhood and tried to cover up. ( The question is the result of some rather "nosy" bible study question her youth group subscribed to. I was lucky to have only accepted Christ at age 24, so the youth organization era was not in my past.)
Well! Elizabeth was tiny in size but rather hot tempered many years ago. Her closest friend Cassandra at age seven nursed some wounds for about a week until I heard from the mother. Apparently Cassandra knowingly goaded Elizabeth into scratching her at the wrist. The interesting part was Cassandra was at my house for three evenings a week but I failed to notice the bandage. Probably it was the left wrist and she was quite good at hiding it from me.
I dare say both girls were at fault. But Cassandra's mom was adamant that the young girl was teasing and goading to see how Elizabeth would react. The practical and sensible mother felt that it was a relief that it was my daughter who merely scratched the aggressor. Imagine if the victim swing a filled mineral water bottle at Cassandra's head! Of course I went home and gave Elizabeth the third degree for scratching a playmate. I taught her to turn around and walk off, it is far smarter to ignore such a person, even if it was her best friend.
Now! The reason I blog this is not to show my readers how bad or good my child was in the past or is at present. Usually the first sign I spot in a recovered learning disabled adult is the disproportionate reaction to being forced, coerced, victimized or being made to feel injustice. Well, the last time I gave my husband a good dressing down was when he asked me an ungrammatical question,"Water boil ah?" early one morning when I was bustling around trying to accomplish a few tasks in order to leave the house for the day. What he really meant was: "Did I turn off the fire and actually forgot about it?" I took it that he was unreasonable enough to expect me to drop everything to boil more drinking water. I collected the water bottles and could not find my jug. He was unwise enough to put real lemon to soak in a plastic jug. A volcano erupted and he was still trying to shake sleep off his head, all he wanted to know was if I had turned off the fire under a whistling kettle. My daughter said he deserved the shelling as he could have just stepped into the kitchen and touched the kettle rather than irritate me early in the morning.
Well! Elizabeth was tiny in size but rather hot tempered many years ago. Her closest friend Cassandra at age seven nursed some wounds for about a week until I heard from the mother. Apparently Cassandra knowingly goaded Elizabeth into scratching her at the wrist. The interesting part was Cassandra was at my house for three evenings a week but I failed to notice the bandage. Probably it was the left wrist and she was quite good at hiding it from me.
I dare say both girls were at fault. But Cassandra's mom was adamant that the young girl was teasing and goading to see how Elizabeth would react. The practical and sensible mother felt that it was a relief that it was my daughter who merely scratched the aggressor. Imagine if the victim swing a filled mineral water bottle at Cassandra's head! Of course I went home and gave Elizabeth the third degree for scratching a playmate. I taught her to turn around and walk off, it is far smarter to ignore such a person, even if it was her best friend.
Now! The reason I blog this is not to show my readers how bad or good my child was in the past or is at present. Usually the first sign I spot in a recovered learning disabled adult is the disproportionate reaction to being forced, coerced, victimized or being made to feel injustice. Well, the last time I gave my husband a good dressing down was when he asked me an ungrammatical question,"Water boil ah?" early one morning when I was bustling around trying to accomplish a few tasks in order to leave the house for the day. What he really meant was: "Did I turn off the fire and actually forgot about it?" I took it that he was unreasonable enough to expect me to drop everything to boil more drinking water. I collected the water bottles and could not find my jug. He was unwise enough to put real lemon to soak in a plastic jug. A volcano erupted and he was still trying to shake sleep off his head, all he wanted to know was if I had turned off the fire under a whistling kettle. My daughter said he deserved the shelling as he could have just stepped into the kitchen and touched the kettle rather than irritate me early in the morning.
Friday, June 28, 2013
(261) Liquid gold
I saw a program on Astro about the Italian economy. In the program they touched on the test marketing of extra virgin olive oil in Beijing.
I had a neighbor in Silver City whose cousin's year end bonus in 2000 was a cool million dollars. Of course the lady concerned lives in a mansion in a gated and guarded area with tight security. Of interest to me, the wealthy lady only uses olive oil in her kitchen. She bought different grade oil for different purposes: extra virgin for salads and ordinary olive oil for light frying.
After listening to that, I actually went to the supermarket and checked on the prices of those bottles. What I found out was that none of the different brands of liquid gold was less than two times the price of the normal cooking oil I use. And I want to point out that I am using mid range vegetable based oil. At the end I did buy one small bottle to find out why folks would pay so much for it. Among the many purposes I used it for, it was quite good as salad oil and in cooking pasta sauce. That was the last time you find olive oil in my kitchen. It is not because I don't like it, I simply feel that in order to pay for that as a daily staple, I am not willing to trim my budget to fit it in.
I had a neighbor in Silver City whose cousin's year end bonus in 2000 was a cool million dollars. Of course the lady concerned lives in a mansion in a gated and guarded area with tight security. Of interest to me, the wealthy lady only uses olive oil in her kitchen. She bought different grade oil for different purposes: extra virgin for salads and ordinary olive oil for light frying.
After listening to that, I actually went to the supermarket and checked on the prices of those bottles. What I found out was that none of the different brands of liquid gold was less than two times the price of the normal cooking oil I use. And I want to point out that I am using mid range vegetable based oil. At the end I did buy one small bottle to find out why folks would pay so much for it. Among the many purposes I used it for, it was quite good as salad oil and in cooking pasta sauce. That was the last time you find olive oil in my kitchen. It is not because I don't like it, I simply feel that in order to pay for that as a daily staple, I am not willing to trim my budget to fit it in.
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
(255) Bed of Roses by Nora Roberts
I find this book interesting as it dealt with unwritten codes among friends in the USA. Quite a bit of it reminded me of confidences exchanged in the dorm rooms in the middle of the night. It is certainly easier to tell your friends the difficult to talk about things if it is in the wee hours and there is dimmed lighting and preferably if there is someone asleep and the remaining two whispering in a dark corner.
Yes, I heard about the first kiss, first French kiss, the petting and necking in the back seat ... According to this book, girls tell. They expect each other to, and they themselves disclose. Well, in my home town, things are different. I used to have a group of close friends, after being abroad for college, I was no longer that close with most of them but one. When I unexpectedly returned from America, everyone has moved on. One got married and had two children. Another was engaged and actually went on a pre-nup trip to Europe. (Well, they have registered legally as man and wife but had not gone through the Chinese ceremonies) Another two were dating seriously with the men in their lives. The rest were busy with jobs and dating around. I actually found myself a whole new set of friends and acquaintances to do things with. I must have missed out on the hot dates and the hot news of the old set because I was away. But, one incident stood out: our advertising consultant managed to grill an errant friend and found out why she chose to go work in Papua.
Now, this errant friend has always been close mouth and kept her own counsel. She has a stubborn streak and would refuse to tell if she so decides. However, she did not count on our media research friend's skills developed by countless consumer research projects funded by international companies. There our advertising consultant small talked and asked more than sixty seemingly unrelated questions. Those questions were of two types, random ones and the related ones. By being relax and answering those questions, the end result is telling. Even if some answers were lies, our consultant could sieve them out and ask from completely different angles.
So, the consultant taxed her brain cells and came to one conclusion: our dear friend was heart broken with her hot boy friend in Borneo. While the relationship was going well, she must have slept with him (that was her first, we were certain) thinking she would eventually marry him. But she must have found out something pretty bad about him and she wanted out. Just a simple break up would not do, seemed like he was not willing to let her go and she resorted to being transferred to Papua, of all places! I'll end on a happy note, she is the proud mother of one son with a Thai husband. Of course her son is like sixteen years younger than mine as she took her time to select her lucky man and then she has some difficulty conceiving in her late thirties.
Yes, I heard about the first kiss, first French kiss, the petting and necking in the back seat ... According to this book, girls tell. They expect each other to, and they themselves disclose. Well, in my home town, things are different. I used to have a group of close friends, after being abroad for college, I was no longer that close with most of them but one. When I unexpectedly returned from America, everyone has moved on. One got married and had two children. Another was engaged and actually went on a pre-nup trip to Europe. (Well, they have registered legally as man and wife but had not gone through the Chinese ceremonies) Another two were dating seriously with the men in their lives. The rest were busy with jobs and dating around. I actually found myself a whole new set of friends and acquaintances to do things with. I must have missed out on the hot dates and the hot news of the old set because I was away. But, one incident stood out: our advertising consultant managed to grill an errant friend and found out why she chose to go work in Papua.
Now, this errant friend has always been close mouth and kept her own counsel. She has a stubborn streak and would refuse to tell if she so decides. However, she did not count on our media research friend's skills developed by countless consumer research projects funded by international companies. There our advertising consultant small talked and asked more than sixty seemingly unrelated questions. Those questions were of two types, random ones and the related ones. By being relax and answering those questions, the end result is telling. Even if some answers were lies, our consultant could sieve them out and ask from completely different angles.
So, the consultant taxed her brain cells and came to one conclusion: our dear friend was heart broken with her hot boy friend in Borneo. While the relationship was going well, she must have slept with him (that was her first, we were certain) thinking she would eventually marry him. But she must have found out something pretty bad about him and she wanted out. Just a simple break up would not do, seemed like he was not willing to let her go and she resorted to being transferred to Papua, of all places! I'll end on a happy note, she is the proud mother of one son with a Thai husband. Of course her son is like sixteen years younger than mine as she took her time to select her lucky man and then she has some difficulty conceiving in her late thirties.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
(254) Himalaya by Michael Palin
I happen to have an elder brother who continually buys and reads travel books and then generously passes them to me.
This is one book which describes places that I wish I could go. But of course I have not the financial means to travel to such far off the beaten track countries. Even if I have a sudden windfall that solves the money angle, I do not have the necessary mobility to tackle mountain paths.
It was a happy few days that I spent living my armchair traveling through Palin's eyes. I particularly want to visit Bhutan, the country with clear, clean air that is still made up of many acres of virgin temperate forest.
One day I might just go and visit a few friends who live in Kunming and add on a side trip to Lijiang. With really cheap fare offered by Air Asia, dreams do come true!
This is one book which describes places that I wish I could go. But of course I have not the financial means to travel to such far off the beaten track countries. Even if I have a sudden windfall that solves the money angle, I do not have the necessary mobility to tackle mountain paths.
It was a happy few days that I spent living my armchair traveling through Palin's eyes. I particularly want to visit Bhutan, the country with clear, clean air that is still made up of many acres of virgin temperate forest.
One day I might just go and visit a few friends who live in Kunming and add on a side trip to Lijiang. With really cheap fare offered by Air Asia, dreams do come true!
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
(253) To hear God
The other day Elizabeth was lamenting that she could not hear God. Since Michael went for YWAM (Youth With A Mission) and was trained daily in his Discipleship Training Course to wait for God's still small voice, she made one of those rare hand phone calls to pick his brain. But for someone who has yet to hear that voice, even what he said was too stupendous.
The summer after my college graduation, I was living in a small town working in a small outfit. Every Friday night a very kind couple would pick me up for what they called home fellowship. I distinctly remember one testimony (story about one's walk with God) of a quiet and serious old man. He was deliberating over an important decision in his life as a young believer and was losing much sleep over it. One co-worker told him to seek God - meaning read the bible and ask God to speak to him. At that time, my fellowship group member was a young man feeling rather foolish when he proceeded to carry out the act of seeking God. He knelt down and asked God to speak to him concerning his problem with scripture verses. Then he thanked God and got up to sit at the study desk to read the next portion of scripture from his reading list. Lo and behold, one verse lit up and jumped at him. He could not believe his own eyes and actually went to wash his face. After a five minute break, he went back to the same line: the very same verse jumped out at him again. Then he knew that was God's answer to his problem. He thanked God aloud and went on to apply that verse to his problem. For indeed God hears and he answers his children.
A week later I was asking God what should I do : to continue in the same town or go on to a nearby University town? To work or to go to summer school? The answer came that very night, I was reading some page in the Old Testament. Three words jumped at me and was blinking: Return to Samaria. At that point I did not know where Samaria was or even who the Samaritans were. But the meaning was clear: God wanted me to return to my home country. I remember telling God that since seven years old I meant to find a way to go to America and stay on there. Although I wanted very much to be obedient to him, but would he change my heart. That He did, He changed my heart within three days: overruling a decision that I held in my heart for seventeen years. More than that, I still have three months to seek for employment, an additional visa extension of six months to be applied for. On top of all that, my host couple generously offered me a scholarship to do my Masters degree. At the very same time, an eligible pilot in the Arm Forces was courting me with my host family's permission. Despite all that, I did return home. Yes, my earthly father told me in no uncertain terms that I was stupid to return at that time. He said I could have negotiated with God and gotten my second degree first. Moreover, he said that to be married to a US pilot would mean I could travel with him to many bases around the world. But I suppose what he said was true, yet to obey is better than sacrifice. And what human could see is so very limited. To God, He transcends time and space. Thirty odd years later, it is proven that God had my well being in His mind when He asked me to return. I may not have a second degree today, neither have I traveled as much as I could have wished for; yet I am content with who I am today.
The summer after my college graduation, I was living in a small town working in a small outfit. Every Friday night a very kind couple would pick me up for what they called home fellowship. I distinctly remember one testimony (story about one's walk with God) of a quiet and serious old man. He was deliberating over an important decision in his life as a young believer and was losing much sleep over it. One co-worker told him to seek God - meaning read the bible and ask God to speak to him. At that time, my fellowship group member was a young man feeling rather foolish when he proceeded to carry out the act of seeking God. He knelt down and asked God to speak to him concerning his problem with scripture verses. Then he thanked God and got up to sit at the study desk to read the next portion of scripture from his reading list. Lo and behold, one verse lit up and jumped at him. He could not believe his own eyes and actually went to wash his face. After a five minute break, he went back to the same line: the very same verse jumped out at him again. Then he knew that was God's answer to his problem. He thanked God aloud and went on to apply that verse to his problem. For indeed God hears and he answers his children.
A week later I was asking God what should I do : to continue in the same town or go on to a nearby University town? To work or to go to summer school? The answer came that very night, I was reading some page in the Old Testament. Three words jumped at me and was blinking: Return to Samaria. At that point I did not know where Samaria was or even who the Samaritans were. But the meaning was clear: God wanted me to return to my home country. I remember telling God that since seven years old I meant to find a way to go to America and stay on there. Although I wanted very much to be obedient to him, but would he change my heart. That He did, He changed my heart within three days: overruling a decision that I held in my heart for seventeen years. More than that, I still have three months to seek for employment, an additional visa extension of six months to be applied for. On top of all that, my host couple generously offered me a scholarship to do my Masters degree. At the very same time, an eligible pilot in the Arm Forces was courting me with my host family's permission. Despite all that, I did return home. Yes, my earthly father told me in no uncertain terms that I was stupid to return at that time. He said I could have negotiated with God and gotten my second degree first. Moreover, he said that to be married to a US pilot would mean I could travel with him to many bases around the world. But I suppose what he said was true, yet to obey is better than sacrifice. And what human could see is so very limited. To God, He transcends time and space. Thirty odd years later, it is proven that God had my well being in His mind when He asked me to return. I may not have a second degree today, neither have I traveled as much as I could have wished for; yet I am content with who I am today.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)